Author Archives: Christopher

Nov 8 2012

MoSS? Presents… The Undisputed Top Albums Ever, #50-41

Yep, we’re making a list. Two separate lists, actually, so the above graphic is a bit misleading. Accounting for the limited overlap in Todd’s and Chris’ lists, it’s more like the top 174 or something like that.

Anyway, after months of scientific analysis, hours of listening and re-listening to albums from years gone by, we have arrived at a definitive list of the top albums ever recorded. Our research is not open to interpretation, but you’re more than welcome to complain about the fact that your favorite albums aren’t on this list; we’ll simply respond by telling you that your favorite records aren’t really all that good.

Here are some spoilers: you’re not going to find the typical hipster stuff like Neutral Milk Hotel or Slint or even stuff one/both of us actually likes such as DJ Shadow or Pavement. This isn’t Rolling Stone so you’re not going to find Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band or Pet Sounds at the top. Wham’s Make It Big was snubbed.

We’re not going to roll it all out at once; no sense rushing through all this quality music! But Music or Space Shuttle? is gonna be pretty busy over the next two months.

That’s enough of an intro. Let’s get on with it…

Chris’ #50-41

(click play button below to sample these 10 albums)

50. Guns n’ Roses, Appetite for Destruction

49. Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon

48. Sigur Ros, Takk…

47. The Radio Dept., Clinging to a Scheme

46. Sleigh Bells, Treats

45. Led Zeppelin, II

44. The Sugarcubes, Life’s Too Good

43. Beck, Odelay!

42. Arcade Fire, Funeral

41. Danger Mouse, The Grey Album

A CLOSER LOOK AT…

#45: Led Zeppelin, II

cover for Led Zeppelin IIWhen I was in eighth grade, I ended up buying one of those “special issues” of Rolling Stone; this particular one listed something like the 100 greatest albums of all time (sound familiar?). I was thumbing through it while riding in my dad’s truck; he kept glancing over and saying, “I have that one. I have that one. I have that one too.”

So as soon as we got home, I went downstairs and started looking through my dad’s vinyl collection. Indeed, my dad had some cool stuff: Beatles, Hendrix, Velvet Underground, Rolling Stones, Wings Over America, and one album by Led Zeppelin. Where to start?

I’d heard plenty of Beatles at this point, so I set them aside for the time being. I finally picked a criterion for what I would listen to: which band adorned the most T-shirts in my junior high school? Zeppelin was the clear winner: the studs, the stoners, and the geeks all represented Led Zep across their chests.

So when I went to bed that night, I put the LP on the turntable (yes, I had a record player in my room in 1987), plugged in my over-the-ear headphones, and lay down to take it all in.

Whoa, dude.

The stuttering riff of “Whole Lotta Love” filled my ears. Plant shrieked something about how I need coolin’ (he wasn’t foolin’). The song thundered forward, and then hit the part where the music spiraled around my head (the headphones made the music exponentially cooler) and Plant let loose with his howls. As soon as the song ended (or, more accurately, faded out), I jumped out of bed, moved the needle back to the beginning, and found myself air guitaring and lip-syncing the shit out of my new favorite song. I also hoped I would find time at school the next day to chat up any of the 73 guys who would undoubtedly have on their Swan Song or “Lantern Man” or Hindenburg shirts, to let them know that “I get it, man!”

The album is more than “Whole Lotta Love,” of course. “What Is and What Should Never Be” finds a nice groove; “The Lemon Song” gets all sorts of bluesy; “Ramble On” has that acoustic guitar/quirky percussion/whimsical Plant vocal that eventually roars into the chorus before settling back down into chill and so on (the quiet-LOUD-quiet dynamic we like in so many bands from the ’80s and ’90s). And don’t forget the drum solo song (“Moby Dick”) or the “guitar hero” song (“Heartbreaker”).

It’s the only Zeppelin album in my dad’s LP collection; my turntable needle deepened the groove in my dad’s record after repeated plays. I guess if you’re only going to own one Led Zep album, you can’t go wrong with II.

#41: Danger Mouse, The Grey Album

cover image for The Grey AlbumFirst off: you’ll be seeing “The White Album” on this list in due time.

Second: Jay-Z’s The Black Album is really pretty terrible. Not the raps, necessarily, but the backing beats and music are cheesy as shit. So melodramatic, so shiny, so…I don’t know…I’m going to go back to terrible. Which is too bad, because there’s some quotable lines throughout this album.

That’s why Danger Mouse has done Hova a big favor by blending White and Black and making Grey. (I think Jay-Z knew his words needed some inspired music behind them, as he released an a cappella version of the album in hopes that artists would remix it.) Danger Mouse, who at this point wasn’t producing Gorillaz or Beck or doing his Gnarls Barkley thing, spent weeks (months?) stitching together samples from the Beatles’ eponymous double album (including meticulous sampling of Ringo Starr’s drums, which he sequenced into something much heavier/hipper than Mr. Starkey ever banged out) to go along with Jay-Z’s vocals.

And it worked. Boy, does it work.

Keep in mind: mashups were, for the most part, little more than humorous juxtapositions at this point. Even the good ones were curious pairings: Nirvana and Destiny’s Child (“Smells Like Bootylicious”) or the Strokes and Christina Aguilera (“A Stroke of Genie-us”). This was also before Girl Talk dropped Night Ripper and Feed the Animals and took the mashup to the extreme. But Danger Mouse’s work, despite using two well-known quantities, felt natural. Yeah, I’d heard “99 Problems” before, and of course I’d heard the guitar and backing vocals from “Helter Skelter” a zillion times, but hearing these familiar elements together didn’t feel ridiculous. In fact, it sort of made the statement that the Beatles were kinda badass and would fit well underneath the self-appointed best rapper alive.

The frenzied samples from “Glass Onion” and “Savoy Truffle” are an infinitely better accompaniment to “Encore” than the shit Jay-Z used on his album (or anything Linkin Park had to do with that song, for that matter). And instead of some stupid Russell Crowe sample on “What More Can I Say,” Danger Mouse throws mad breakbeat and a slowed down version of the guitar from “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” underneath Jay’s lament.

And then there’s “December 4th,” an oral history of Jay’s life complemented with a few thoughts from Jay’s mom. On The Black Album, this song is shackled with some of the worst backing tracks I’ve ever heard. Like something straight out of a 1977 discotheque (and not in a good way like some of the stuff used in Boogie Nights) or AM radio. Danger Mouse could have improved this song in his sleep, but he went beyond and delivered goods on the other end of the spectrum. Spotting the emotional potential of the lyrics, he pairs the verses with the  touching guitar flourishes from “Mother Nature’s Son,” and concocts a drum beat to propel the song without overwhelming. Whenever I would play the Danger Mouse version in the car, Tracy would comment, “This song is so sad.” Imagine saying that about Jay’s original version, outside of saying “What a sad excuse for a song this is!”

The Grey Album elevates Jay-Z’s verses to new heights, and it does nothing to harm the integrity of the original Beatles material. Even Jay-Z and Paul McCartney think it’s pretty cool. They’re right.

Todd’s #50-41

(click play button below to sample these 10 albums)

50. Interpol, Turn On the Bright Lights

49. The Sundays, Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic

48. Paul Simon, Graceland

47. Red Hot Chili Peppers, Blood Sugar Sex Magik

46. Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill

45. Catherine, Hot Saki and Bedtime Stories

44. Modest Mouse, Good News for People Who Love Bad News

43. Beck, Midnight Vultures

42. Simon and Garfunkel, Bridge Over Troubled Water

41. Massive Attack, Mezzanine

A CLOSER LOOK AT…

#44. Modest Mouse, Good News for People Who Love Bad News

 Admittedly, I was late to the party with Modest Mouse. Hipsters that loved Modest Mouse from the beginning would tell you that Good News was the start of their musical downfall, but that’s just the standard hipster backlash towards a band that shows a bit of success. This is how a typical conversation would go with a true hipster.

Me: Hey, there Mr. Hipster. Nice skinny jeans. What are your thoughts on the group [insert indie band name here]?

Mr. Hipster: (disinterested, barely audible voice) Uhhh…just a sec…(finishing text to hipster friend)…I really liked their early stuff. I don’t like anything they did on [insert major record label name here].

Me: Thanks. Love the fedora. Douche.

That being said, I guess I started liking Modest Mouse after their musical downfall. I didn’t really listen to them until the summer of ’04 when Good News came out. “Float On” was my song of the summer that year. My wife and I were expecting our first child and also preparing to move to a new city for work.

A piece of advice for all you future fathers out there: Don’t knock up your old lady and then take a new job that requires you to move while she is 7-9 months pregnant. I’ve done that twice. Take it from me, it does not make your already stressed wife happy.

On Labor Day weekend that year, we were to close on our house in the new town.  Now my wife was due any second at this point, a sane person would not have driven her 2 hours away from her doctor. Unfortunately, we were on a time table which required her to travel.

We closed on the new house on Saturday and decided to stay there for a couple of days. The plan was to go back to our other house after the weekend, she would have the baby and then we would permanently move a few weeks later. Man we were good. We had it all figured out. My daughter must have been listening from the womb laughing.

I was sound asleep that night when my wife woke me up complaining of stabbing pains in the “baby maker.” (My words not hers) It was go time! The countdown to baby had begun. I grabbed our bags and we hightailed it out of there. After I made her swear she would not give birth in my new truck, I drove like crazy back home.

The trip went by fast as my mind raced and fears of being a father swirled around in my head. Good News played over the car stereo the whole time and helped to soothe my nerves a bit. It took me an hour and a half to get us back home. Almost exactly the same amount of time it takes to listen to Good News in its entirety twice. My unborn daughter was really having fun with us because after that panicked drive home, she decided to wait two days to make her entrance into the world. Perhaps she was just preparing us for the many sleepless nights to come.

#42. Simon and Garfunkel, Bridge Over Troubled Water

I truly didn’t expect to be writing about Simon and Garfunkel in this set of 10 albums. After my plea for a reunion of The Sundays back at #70, I figured I would be regaling you all with stories of adoration for my #49 selection, The Sundays Reading, Writing and Arithmetic. I was also hoping to announce that the first release from our new label, Music or Space Shuttle? Productions, would be the long awaited fourth album by The Sundays. Sadly, there has been no response on their end.

So, I’m writing instead about another rock duo that is no longer making music together. I will not be making any pleas for this pair to reunite. Not with their shaky past. Hell, Paul Simon is over 70 years old now. If he doesn’t want to hang with “The Funkel” anymore, fine. I won’t push it. I first came across Bridge Over Troubled Water around the age of 12 while going through my parent’s record collection. Back then, I really only liked a few songs like “The Boxer”, “Bye Bye Love” and “Cecilia.”

Side note on “Cecilia”: It seems as though “Cecilia” has turned into a drunken party anthem over the years. Walking home from the bar in college I would heard entire fraternity and sorority houses singing along while the house shook from that distinctive drum beat.

Cecilia, you’re breaking my heart
You’re shaking my confidence daily
Oh, Cecilia, I’m down on my knees
I’m begging you please to come home

Many was the time I queued up that little romp as a party was getting into full swing at my apartment. People love it. Next to Van Morrison’s “Brown-Eyed Girl”, there wasn’t a better song to get people in the mood for a drunken sing-along.

It wasn’t until years later during a road trip with my mother that I took notice of the rest of the album. She had just bought Bridge Over Troubled Water on cassette tape. I guess I know where I got my love of music because like her, I have purchased certain albums on every available format from vinyl to tape to CD to MP3. The song, “The Only Living Boy in New York”, in particular was one that stood out for me. I probably rewound that song 10 times during the car trip. My mother must a have taken note, because I came home from school a few days later and found a copy of Bridge Over Troubled Water sitting on my bed. Pretty cool surprise for a music geek.

I’m sure she just got a kick out of me getting into her music. As a parent myself now, I can’t wait until my kids start to show an interest in music from my generation. I’m going to make sure and do the same thing as my Mom. Hell, I’ll put the entire discography of The Cure on their beds at the slightest hint of interest. I’m going to be the annoying music pusher Dad. Can’t push too hard though. It may have the opposite effect and they’ll wind up listening to…shudder…country music.


Previous installments:

#100-91

#90-81

#80-71

#70-61

#60-51

Nov 6 2012

MoSS? Presents… The Undisputed Top Albums Ever, #60-51

Yep, we’re making a list. Two separate lists, actually, so the above graphic is a bit misleading. Accounting for the limited overlap in Todd’s and Chris’ lists, it’s more like the top 174 or something like that.

Anyway, after months of scientific analysis, hours of listening and re-listening to albums from years gone by, we have arrived at a definitive list of the top albums ever recorded. Our research is not open to interpretation, but you’re more than welcome to complain about the fact that your favorite albums aren’t on this list; we’ll simply respond by telling you that your favorite records aren’t really all that good.

Here are some spoilers: you’re not going to find the typical hipster stuff like Neutral Milk Hotel or Slint or even stuff one/both of us actually likes such as DJ Shadow or Pavement. This isn’t Rolling Stone so you’re not going to find Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band or Pet Sounds at the top. Wham’s Make It Big was snubbed.

We’re not going to roll it all out at once; no sense rushing through all this quality music! But Music or Space Shuttle? is gonna be pretty busy over the next two months.

That’s enough of an intro. Let’s get on with it…

Chris’ #60-51

(click play button below to sample these 10 albums)

60. Jose Gonzalez, In Our Nature

59. The Breeders, Last Splash

58. …And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead, Source Tags and Codes

57. Burial, Street Halo

56. Radiohead, Kid A

55. Duran Duran, Duran Duran (1981)

54. Explosions in the Sky, The Earth Is Not a Cold, Dead Place

53. Cults, Cults

52. N.W.A., Straight Outta Compton

51. Pixies, Surfer Rosa

A CLOSER LOOK AT…

#55: Duran Duran, Duran Duran

duran duran front coverWhen you are 10 years old and living in a town where the main music supplier is the Pamida store on the edge of town, you find yourself struggling to get your hands on a cassette from a band’s back catalog, even a band as current in 1984 as Duran Duran. If you wanted to buy Arena or Seven and the Ragged Tiger, no problem. Even Rio could be found from time to time. But the band’s eponymous 1981 debut? The Pamida staff isn’t that savvy.

But there are ways to get what you want. In my case, you agree to go shopping in nearby “metropolis” La Crosse, Wis., with your mom and your little brother and be good THE WHOLE TIME. Then, and only then, will my mom take me to Musicland and buy me the elusive Duran debut.

It was a struggle. This meant having to walk through the women’s sections of Dayton’s and JCPenney and Younkers and Maurices and god knows what else, but also not picking on my little brother while killing time surrounded by blouses and slacks. But I was on a mission, and it was successful.

And well worth it, I might add. Not only did I now possess the songs “Girls on Film” and “Planet Earth,” but I was introduced to the deeper cuts that define this album as a New Romantic masterpiece. “(Is There) Anyone Out There” is a wonderful blend of spiky guitar, atmospheric keyboards, and plucky bass. “Careless Memories” is a rock song that uses the right touch of keyboard and percussion flourishes. “Sound of Thunder” is probably the standout track on the more avant garde Side B of the album, a song that has more in common with stuff like the Cure and Joy Division than any of the “totally ’80s” stuff like Bow Wow Wow or Kajagoogoo, even though Duran Duran is often lazily categorized with the latter. If you don’t believe me, check out album closer “Tel Aviv,” a song that will defy most people’s conventional thinking about the band. (And a song that makes a wonderful soundtrack during a family vacation in the Rocky Mountains, with its soaring keyboard, guitar, and vocal effects playing against the backdrop of Colorado’s snow-capped rocky peaks.)

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with liking the songs you’d find on Duran Duran’s Decade or Greatest albums, but the band’s debut shows an intelligence behind the band’s glamour image that goes ignored by music fans and historians alike.

#52: N.W.A., Straight Outta Compton

Straight Outta Compton coverI landed a copy of this album when I was 15, and I swear it took me probably six months to get past the first three songs. Not because I couldn’t stand more than 15 minutes of gangsta rap in one sitting…far from it. It’s just that as soon as “Straight Outta Compton,” “Fuck tha Police,” and “Gangsta Gangsta” had run their course, I’d immediately hit the stop button on the boom box and rewind to the beginning, and repeat that trifecta of street knowledge.

Eventually I found the gems later in the sequencing (“Dopeman,” “8-Ball,” and the preview of Ice Cube’s solo work, “I Ain’t Tha 1”) but the opening three songs, had they been released alone as an EP, might have carried Straight Outta Compton to immortal status.

Ice Cube’s opening flow on the title track is still mesmerizing, even if the language isn’t nearly as shocking now as it was to a 15-year-old northeast Iowa boy (maybe it should be more shocking to me now as a 38-year-old father?) who thought Tackle-Hoops-playin’ Theo Huxtable was flush with street cred. MC Ren was a decent change-up to Cube…not as confident, but just as crude.

If Ren was the change-up, Eazy-E was the 12-6 curveball. This high-pitched voice talkin’ big about being tired of gettin’ jacked up by the motherfuckin’ police or being a brother who’ll smother your mother or drinkin’ Olde English 800 like a madman and steppin’ into the party and dissin’ yo ho and his boyz in the hood keepin’ him cool…WTF (as in WHO the fuck) is this? Did Cube and Ren let their little brother drop some knowledge? Is he on here because he has the best name of the bunch? (The dude with the worst name, DJ Yella, comes off as nothing more than Dr. Dre’s understudy; the guy with the oddest name, The Arabian Prince, I’m not sure he actually says more than 10 words throughout the album.)

And wasn’t I a little bit intimidated by his stuff despite sounding like Alvin, Simon, or Theodore?

I couldn’t relate to much being said on this album, but I was just one example of the thousands (millions?) of suburban kids who found themselves fascinated by the raw language and the sweet beats laid down by Dre and Yella. And this was more punk than anything considered punk at the time, the perfect music for a teenager looking to rebel against something, anything. Even in Waukon, yo.

In my opinion, once Cube left, N.W.A. went south in a hurry, at least in retrospect. (I hung around for the 100 Miles and Running EP, but then I was out.) But I’ll always go back to Straight Outta Compton to get my gangsta nostalgia on.

Todd’s #60-51

(click play button below to sample these 10 albums)

60. Phoenix, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix

59. Alice in Chains, Jar of Flies

58. Arcade Fire, Funeral

57. Led Zeppelin, Houses of the Holy

56. Nada Surf, The Weight is a Gift

55. Van Halen, 1984

54. Ice Cube, Death Certificate

53. The White Stripes, Elephant

52. Pixies, Surfer Rosa

51. Kings of Leon, Aha Shake Heartbreak

A CLOSER LOOK AT…

#59.Alice in Chains, Jar of Flies

I bought this EP on a very cold February day back in 1994. I must have come into some money that day because I remember buying three other CDs at the same time. Fine. Since you are all so curious, I’ll tell you what the other three albums were; My first copy of The Clash’s London Calling, David Bowie’s Changesbowie, and Tori Amos’ Under the Pink. Quite the odd collection there.

Let’s get back on track shall we? I was never a huge Alice in Chains fan. I enjoyed a few songs from Facelift and there was a time when you couldn’t get away from their album Dirt. Every “bro” in town was listening to that one since Poison wasn’t making records anymore. I just wasn’t as into them as some other bands from that era.

That attitude changed one day as I was driving to work with a friend. As we got on the road, he threw in a new CD and told me to take a listen. After the first few bars of track one, I was hooked. I asked who the band was and didn’t believe him when he said it was Alice in Chains. Of course, it was obvious as soon as the perfectly harmonized vocals of Layne Staley and Jerry Cantrell came in during the first verse of “Rotten Apple.”

Hey Ah Na Na
Innocence is over
Hey Ah Na Na
Over

The whole EP seemed completely different than other Alice in Chains releases. From the acoustic songs like “Rotten Apple” and “Nutshell”, to the instrumental “Whale and Wasp”, this was an Alice in Chains I could get into. Jar of Flies owned my Sony Discman for the next few weeks. I don’t think I even opened up that Tori Amos record until April.

#51. Kings of Leon, Aha Shake Heartbreak

Nothing fancy here. Hard driving bass and drums. Overpowering guitars. Wild, growling vocals. Early Kings of Leon was straight up “we don’t give a fuck” rock and roll. Not to disparage the newer KOL music too much, but it does come across a bit more polished than the tunes on Aha Shake Heartbreak. Now enough praise for these guys. The record’s great, cool lead vocals, sexy lyrics… blah blah blah.

Why the KOL hate on a post praising their album? Because I’ve heard each of their songs so many times that I’ve lost all enjoyment in hearing them. It wasn’t me playing them over and over, but I am to be held responsible. I created a monster. A 5’2″, brunette haired, KOL listening monster.

For most of our relationship, my wife has enjoyed the same music as me. On occasion, I will introduce her to a band that we both enjoy equally, but usually I like a band and she is neutral. That’s how it started with KOL. I really liked Aha Shake and she seemed to enjoy it too.

The next Kings of Leon record, Because the Times, came out and the same thing happened. We both liked it, but she never would have chosen to listen to it on her own. Then came the fourth KOL release, Only By the Night. I got a “totally legal, not pirated” advanced copy of that record and could tell it was going to be big. There were several songs on it that just screamed “radio hit.” And big it was. You couldn’t turn on an FM station without hearing “Use Somebody” within five minutes. This is where I witnessed the early KOL addiction signs from my wife. Let’s go over the addiction checklist from a pamphlet I found on the topic.

-Frequent, bordering on obsessive KOL listening?…Yes

-Listening to KOL by yourself?…Yes

-Unable to listen to any other groups music?… No

-Internet Stalking of Band Members?…No

-Internet Stalking of Band Member Spouses/Potential Murder Victims?…No

Man was I relieved. She only got a 40% on that test. I quit worrying and everything was fine for awhile. She stopped listening to Only by the Night and we enjoyed many other artist’s albums for a year or so. Then came that home-wrecker of an album, Come Around Sundown. God bless her, she resisted at first. She even said she didn’t like it, but she slowly wore down. How could she resist. They write lyrics that are like catnip to rock loving girls everywhere. Every song seems to be about how a guy likes a girl and wants to fight some other dude so he can be with her.

Example:

The song “Pickup Truck”

Hate to be so emotional
I didn’t aim to get physical
But when he pulled in and revved it up
I said, ‘you call that a pick up truck?’
And in the moonlight I throwed him down
Kickin’ screamin’ & rolling around
A little piece of a bloody tooth
Just so you know I was thinking of you
Just so you know ohhhhh

Well, after that it was all over. We’re talking 100% percent on the KOL addiction test. Those KOL supermodel spouses better watch out. My wife is watching and waiting. If I read in the paper one day that one of those lovely ladies “accidentally” tripped and broke her neck, I will know my wife won’t be coming home for supper anymore. I may have to host an intervention or hire one of those therapists that “de-program” cult members. I’m praying for a band break-up. That could be the only thing that saves her.

Previous installments:

#100-91

#90-81

#80-71

#70-61

Nov 1 2012

MoSS? Presents… The Undisputed Top Albums Ever, #70-61

Yep, we’re making a list. Two separate lists, actually, so the above graphic is a bit misleading. Accounting for the limited overlap in Todd’s and Chris’ lists, it’s more like the top 174 or something like that.

Anyway, after months of scientific analysis, hours of listening and re-listening to albums from years gone by, we have arrived at a definitive list of the top albums ever recorded. Our research is not open to interpretation, but you’re more than welcome to complain about the fact that your favorite albums aren’t on this list; we’ll simply respond by telling you that your favorite records aren’t really all that good.

Here are some spoilers: you’re not going to find the typical hipster stuff like Neutral Milk Hotel or Slint or even stuff one/both of us actually likes such as DJ Shadow or Pavement. This isn’t Rolling Stone so you’re not going to find Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band or Pet Sounds at the top. Wham’s Make It Big was snubbed.

We’re not going to roll it all out at once; no sense rushing through all this quality music! But Music or Space Shuttle? is gonna be pretty busy over the next two months.

That’s enough of an intro. Let’s get on with it…

Chris’ 70-61

(click play button below to sample these 10 albums)

70. Nick Drake, Five Leaves Left

69. Sigur Ros, Agaetis Byrjun

68. Best Coast, Crazy for You

67. Green Day, Dookie

66. M83, Saturdays=Youth

65. Frank Ocean, Nostalgia, Ultra

64. The Stone Roses, The Stone Roses

63. U2, The Joshua Tree

62. The Black Keys, thickfreakness

61. Beastie Boys, Check Your Head

A CLOSER LOOK AT…

#67: Green Day, Dookie

album cover for "dookie"A song with a killer bass line and lyrics about polishing the skin flute…that’s what piqued my interest in Green Day. Then I bought Dookie, and found myself absolutely enamored with all the simple things that make rock n roll great: an amazingly tight rhythm section, a catchy sequence of power chords, faux-British-accented vocals, lyrics about having a blast and burning out and “paradise” and wasting other people’s time and being paranoid and/or stoned and hearing someone cry aloud out all the way across town and being told to fuck off and die.

I think Dookie came along at a perfect time. Grunge was running its course, especially with the death of Kurt Cobain, but I was still interested in non-flashy guitar-driven rock. Green Day provided that. The band had matured into better songwriters and stepped up their production values after two solid albums (the debut compilation of LP and EPs, 1,039/Smoothed Out Slappy Hours, is a definite indicator of the potential, even with a lesser drummer). The glossiness of Dookie never bothered me, just like I had no reason to despise the sound of Nirvana’s Nevermind compared with the sludgy sound of the $606 production of Bleach. I was also in a new town when I started listening to Dookie in earnest. I was making new friends in Ames and enjoying life and more often than not we had songs such as “Having a Blast” on the sound system while, erm, having a blast.

I thought Green Day had additional bright moments over the years, but nothing that burned as bright as this piece of shit from 1994. From the first two touches of the high hat that kick off “Burnout” to the last quiet bits of the jokey “hidden track” that followed “F.O.D.,” this was youthful joy. I never reach for the skip button when listening to this album, and the songs have aged well over the subsequent two decades.

And if you don’t like it, you can F.O.D.

#63: U2, The Joshua Tree

joshua tree album coverMany people like to romanticize that Nirvana (more specifically, Nevermind) killed hair metal. For me, it was The Joshua Tree.

When U2’s fifth album came out in 1987, I was listening to a lot of “awesome” music; that spring, I probably played my Poison tape more than anything. Then the song “With or Without You” hit the radio and music video rotation, and I was intrigued. Then I heard the whole album, and found myself really drawn to the two songs that ended up being the next two singles, “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” and “Where the Streets Have No Name.” And the bombast of “Bullet the Blue Sky.” And Bono’s yowls on “Trip Through Your Wires.” And “The Edge guitar sound” on “In God’s Country.”

And the quiet hush of “Running to Stand Still,” which I included in my #61-70 sampler above. I found so much to enjoy about the lyrics:

Sweet the sin
Bitter taste in my mouth
I see seven towers
But I only see one way out

You got to cry without weeping
Talk without speaking
Scream without raising your voice

You know I took the poison
From the poison stream
Then I floated out of here

Suddenly, singing along to “‘Cause baby we’ll be at the drive-in, in the old man’s Ford, behind the bushes, ’til I’m screamin’ for more” seemed juvenile, even to a hormonal 13-year-old dude. Admittedly, it’s not like I immediately threw away my Look What the Cat Dragged In cassette after hearing The Joshua Tree. But I never bought Open Up and Say…Ahhh!; I did get Rattle and Hum when it came out and plucked War from the back catalog and started giving bands like R.E.M. a try when joining the BMG tape club.

Before The Joshua Tree, my lone exposure to U2 was watching Bono leaping down into the crowd (sort of) during the 1985 Live Aid broadcast (I was really annoyed, because I was waiting and hoping to see–surprise!–Duran Duran). I had no idea that in two years, this band of Irishmen would seriously alter the way I listened to and appreciated music. And I believe The Joshua Tree is one of those albums that is able to speak to myriad audiences. Consider life in my dorm during freshman year at the University of Northern Iowa. I lived two doors down from a couple of football players; their room was a popular hangout for a fair number of the Panthers. Whenever they got together to play Madden on the Sega Genesis, they always listened to The Joshua Tree, even though it was a good five years old by then. Not macho metal, not ridiculous rap…”Where the Streets Have No Name” and “Mothers of the Disappeared.” I always liked that…even if I could never beat those fuckers in Madden. Oh well: Tecmo Super Bowl was always my game, anyway. And I owned them in NHL ’93 the following spring…

/video game braggadocio

Todd’s 70-61

(click play button below to sample these 10 albums)

70. The Sundays, Static and Silence

69. The Ocean Blue, The Ocean Blue

68. The Breeders, Last Splash

67. Crash Test Dummies, God Shuffled His Feet

66. Oasis, What’s the Story(Morning Glory)?

65. Madonna, True Blue

64. The Jesus and Mary Chain, Stoned and Dethroned

63. Sufjan Stevens, Illinois

62. Feist, The Reminder

61. Lauryn Hill, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill

A CLOSER LOOK AT…

#70. The Sundays, Static and Silence

This was the third of three stellar albums from The Sundays. After its release, lead singer Harriet Wheeler and guitarist David Gavurin quit the business to settle down and raise their kids. I have patiently waited 15 years for a fourth Sundays album. Waiting…Waiting… I’m starting to get impatient. So, in an effort to get them out of retirement, I am going to make a personal plea to The Sundays. Please, come back! Pretty please! Seriously! C’mon!

I get that you wanted to live a simpler life, have kids, and get away from the hassles of the record industry. But we live in different times now. You don’t need large record labels to record and distribute music anymore. We have a thing called “The Interwebs” now. Get a computer (heck I’ll buy you one) and record in your basement like 23 million other artists are doing now. Throw the new material up on a website (I’ll do that for you too. It would be a Music or Space Shuttle? exclusive release. I’m getting goose bumps just thinking about it.)

If it’s the money that’s holding you back, I have a plan for that as well. No one makes money doing it the old way. Unless your last name is Bieber, Swift or Gaga, you aren’t selling albums like the old days. Listen up Sundays. Here’s the new plan. And all you new bands can get in on this as well. Release your album slowly, one song a month. Stream it online and let me decide it I like it or not. If I like it, I buy it. If not, someone else does. Or doesn’t. Who cares? You have another song coming out next month. Maybe we like that song instead. I’d be way more likely to pay for a band’s music one dollar at a time than I would be to buy a whole album for $10 without hearing it. I’m sure a lot of other people would as well.

Sounds great right Harriett? Right Dave? I’m ready when you are. Just think about it.

Please come back! Pretty please?

#61. Lauryn Hill, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill

I was going to music school in Minneapolis around the time The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill was released. I listened to it a lot in between classes and would get different reactions.

There were a lot of guitar students in one of my music theory classes and they would give me shit for listening to it. I didn’t take it personally. Most of them were assholes and looked like rejects from a Black Sabbath cover band. One guy dressed almost exactly like Rob Zombie sans makeup. He kept trying to tell me Rob Zombie’s Hellbilly Deluxe was the greatest album of all time and Lauryn Hill was crap. Unfortunately, Hellbilly is still on my “Albums To Listen To” list so I’ll have to take his word for it. (Side Note: Zombie guy could shred on guitar. I watched him play an inspired solo during his rendition of Ozzy’s “Crazy Train.”)

My production classes were a mixed bag, half the students were into electronic and trip hop music and the other half were into rap. One trip hop guy thought he was way too cool for me because I wasn’t listening to the newest Portishead record every day like he was. I never thought that record was very good. Portishead’s first album, Dummy. Now that was good. The rap guys were way into Silkk The Shocker around that time. I had to listen to Charge It 2 Da Game several times. To this day, I still think it is one of the worst things ever recorded. If I made a list of worst albums of all time (coming Fall 2013) this would be at the top, if not #1.

In a school full of musicians and music lovers, why was the future #61 album of all time getting no love? Why did we all hate each other’s music? Why couldn’t we all just get along? Maybe I was an asshole to the guitar guys and not the other way around. Is there some long haired cover band guitarist in the Twin City area blogging about some dick from Iowa that used to say Hellbilly Deluxe was shitty? That’s too much to take in right now. Maybe I need a therapist.

Previous installments:

#100-91

#90-81

#80-71

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Oct 22 2012

From the MoSS? Pit: The xx

the xx performing

Up close and personal with Romy, Jamie, and Oliver.

I try to write these in short order after seeing the show, but this one took a little bit longer to get going. Several reasons for this…

I stayed in a $40 hotel in Rochester after the show. You might imagine the sort of room you can get for $40 on a Friday night; I will tell you that whatever image you’ve conjured up in your mind, take it down a notch or two. I rolled in about 2 a.m., went to the front desk to “announce” I was there (I say “announce” because I had to shout over the TV, which had the episode of Family Guy on Adult Swim cranked up to 11), and waited for the clerk (fresh from his role as a zombie on The Walking Dead, if one can judge a book by its cover) to stop talking about his taxidermy habit and offering to have dinner with me in his office before I could just go to my room and shower. (Cue the Bernard Herrmann music.) Eventually I got to my room and crashed for a few hours before hitting the road at 7 a.m.

I left Rochester early not only because I was staying at the Bates Motel, but because I needed to get back to my old stomping grounds to attend a benefit for my good friend Aaron. It was a great day, not only because I was able to see a bunch of good friends, but also to see how well Aaron is doing. Much like Wu-Tang Clan, Guillain-Barre Syndrome ain’t nothin’ to fuck wit’, yet Aaron is already kicking its ass just months after the diagnosis (and that’s with an extended, scary stay in ICU in the interim). A lot of people came out and a good amount of dough was raised for my friend and his family, and I walked away from the live auction portion of the festivities with a gift for Tracy: a hot air balloon ride for two, complete with some bubbly to drink while in the air. Thankfully my dad didn’t follow through with his threat to run up the bid on me…

I also didn’t want to write my thoughts about the show immediately afterward for fear that I would knee-jerk my way through it, saying things like “This is without a doubt the best show I’ve ever seen in my life” or “You know, Romy actually is kinda cute” or anything else filled with hyperbole.

So here I am, nearly 48 hours after the final notes of “Stars” had run their course, and I’m left thinking…

“This is without a doubt the best show I’ve ever seen in my life.”


It would be more accurate to say “This is arguably the best show I’ve ever seen in my life,” because I’ve seen some pretty cool shows, especially lately. M83 at the Pageant earlier this year was killer; Portishead in Chicago last year is the one that might still hold the throne even after this xx spectacle. And there’s the first time I saw Explosions in the Sky, which was pretty special; The Cure on the 2000 Dream Tour was epic, too, going nearly three hours and playing a ton of stuff off Pornography.

But this…this was amazing.

Romy and Jamie

Perhaps more than anything else, consider the nature of the xx’s music. The personal feel, the minimal instrumentation that allows the emotion of the music to expand exponentially. The show was played at First Avenue, which isn’t exactly the largest venue in the world. Also consider that I was able to be right up front, along the rail just in front of Oliver Sim, adding to the intimacy of the moment.

And all my best-laid plans for the show came together. I was flying solo (or with all my friends, right?!) for this one, so I decided I was going to nerd out, drive up to the Cities early, and be the first person in line outside First Ave. I would go in, grab a pint of something from the bar, and then park in front of the stage.

Two other dudes had the same plan, so I was third in line when I got there. The line got longer and longer during the ensuing hour between my arrival and when doors opened, and I soon was bumped to fourth in line when the second guy in line was joined by his daughter. She was wearing red pants and a sweet jacket, which prompted a text message exchange between me and Todd (who was in Florida) in which we reminisced about the girl with red pants and cool jacket at the Gardens & Villa show in Iowa City during last spring’s Mission Creek Festival.* It must be the uniform of choice for cool music girls everywhere. The xx fan girl later asked her dad if she could get a tattoo when she turned 16, but only “if it means something to her.” (He said no.)

(* – Gardens & Villa and the Girl with the Red Pants were the only things we enjoyed about our night out at Mission Creek—Dirty Beaches and The War on Drugs were complete letdowns—so we didn’t write a “From the MoSS Pit?” entry. We should have, though. The funny thing: we were behind Girl with the Red Pants the entire show, so we were all under the impression that no one could rock red pants the way she did AND have it all put together from the front as well. When she finally turned around…boy, were we wrong. Todd’s better half agrees with this sentiment, by the way.)

Some people walked by and glanced at the poster announcing tonight’s lineup. The three college kids behind me in line joined me for a laugh when a passerby uttered to his friend, “Who’s playing—oh, Double X.” This name-bungling was one-upped by a panhandler who, after being rejected in his quest for spare change, asked the guys in front of me, “Who’s playing?” One of them responded, to which the panhandler said, “Who? Ex-Lax?” A shitty thing to say, to be sure. (Ha!)

Oliver and Jamie

Oliver and Jamie during the encore.

Soon enough it was time to go in. I quickly got my pint and grabbed my spot at the rail. Two very nice women, April and Jessica, stood next to me (young Red Pants and her dad also landed on the rail, on the other side of A&J). The floor quickly filled up. Not far from me, I noticed a guy in a Flogging Molly shirt who had been pacing around outside First Avenue begging to buy anyone’s extra tickets. At one point his ladyfriend smelled a clove cigar that was being smoked by someone in line, and she offered to buy one of those. Flogging Molly Shirt comes around the corner and says, “I’m trying to find us tickets, and you’re buying cigarettes!” I later heard that he bought two tickets for $120 apiece; face value with fees was $38, and that included a legal digital download of the Coexist album. (But still a shrewd purchase, if you ask me.)

You know what else ruled about this show? It started 30 minutes EARLY. 2:54 took the stage at 8:30 even though the show was billed as starting at 9:00. And they were great. I thought they sounded a little heavier live than what you get from their recorded material, but that’s not a criticism. (Todd included them on our May mixtape, if you want to hear a sample.) The band was well received, and they kept things moving along by playing an economical six-song set.

2:54

2:54

John Talabot was next. I like his music just fine, but knob tweaking punctuated by the occasional series of crash-cymbal pounding isn’t the most thrilling equation for live music. It was the exact kind of show I feared I might get with M83, to be honest; where M83 succeeds by playing a lot of it live, Talabot and his button-pushing sidekick just sort of stood there. Frankly, the xx could have worked out a deal with Talabot where they said, “Look, how about we just play your music during the stage transition from 2:54 to our set?” and it would have been just as valuable. I will listen to John Talabot again this year, I’m sure, so I’m not ripping on the music (for the most part). It just didn’t work for me as a live act.

John Talabot

John Talabot

Talabot’s was a relatively short set as well, and then it was go time.

Sometimes I prefer it when a band sounds ragged live, so I know I’m getting an experience that differs from “just hitting play.” I’d rather bands like the xx don’t sound that way; I want the perfection, and I want the atmosphere they create on the record to be present in this live setting. But I don’t want an exact carbon copy of the album, either. Can you run through the material as if it’s a perfect take, but not have it sound exactly like the songs I’ve played ad infinitum?

The xx can do that.

Sure, the minimalism of the music allows for better odds in terms of solid reproduction of the sound. But they sounded great, both in voice and in instrument. And Jamie xx is a man on a mission behind his setup, pounding out beats on pads or grabbing drumsticks to beat away on real drums or plinking away at piano work.

To my ears, Coexist just gets better with each listen, and the new songs sounded fantastic here. Scroll back up to watch the opener, “Angels,” and take a look at “Sunset” below.


I really liked the way they reworked a couple of the old songs, particularly “Crystalised”:


And they incorporated one of the best songs from the first album (“Shelter”) within one of my favorite songs on the second album (“Swept Away”) and pulled it off seamlessly.


They played every song from xx, and nearly all of Coexist. The encore was a three-song blast of “Intro,” “Tides,” and “Stars,” and after my chest was pummeled by the last few blasts of bass toward the end of “Stars,” my heart was full.

Oct 1 2012

From the MoSS? Pit: The Avett Brothers

fabulous fox theatre

The Fab Fox before the show.

I thought I’d be writing this post in early 2012, seeing as the Avett Brothers were going to play a show in Iowa City around that time. Since shows at the Iowa Memorial Union Main Lounge rarely sold out, I waited and waited and waited to buy my ticket and then when I finally thought seriously about getting my ticket…fuck. Sold out.

My beloved Sleigh Bells maybe filled half the room when they played there in April. That’s hyped-as-fuck Sleigh Bells. With $18 tickets. Half-filled ballroom.

The action on the Avett tickets told me a couple of things:

I am lazy, as I waited weeks to take action on those tickets. (I did not make the same mistake with the xx, whom I will see at the sold-out First Avenue show!)

The Avett Brothers must be really good live, if they are selling out a room in Iowa City with little media hype, no SNL appearances, not soundtracking commercials, no new album out, etc., etc.

The first point was simply a reiteration of known fact. The second point was driven home by their performance at the Fabulous Fox Theatre (which is indeed quite fab) in St. Louis.

It was worth the extra drive, if you ask me, for a number of reasons.

t and c

12 years!

First off, the show gave my better half and I the chance to celebrate our anniversary in a way that differed from your typical dinner at the local Biaggi’s or Red Lobster or at home with some Papa Murphy’s. Let’s leave the little fella with my folks, drive a few hours, get a hotel room, enjoy a big city, enjoy some tunes, sleep in the next morning, drop in on some family, and come home to our boy who could hardly stand being away from us those 32 hours or whatever.

(It’s been 12 years as of Sunday. We’ve experienced a lot AND it feels like time has flown, if that makes sense. And with only a few exceptions, she still hates my music. I love her anyway.)

Second, we were able to hang out with our good friends JD and Sondra (the latter of which went to the Sleigh Bells show 30-some weeks pregnant, totally earning the respect of the MoSS? crew), sitting in the outdoor dining area of Kota Wood Fire Grill, drinking drinks and eating eats and enjoying the ambience of an urban arts scene quite different from a typical night in downtown C.R. It was good to get away and yet enjoy the comfort of our friends’ company.

Third, there’s no way standing around the cavernous IMU Main Lounge could hold a candle to sitting in the balcony of the gorgeous Fab Fox, with its ornate touches and outstanding acoustics.

The stage was set for the Avetts to dominate…and dominate they did.

The evening was billed as, um, “An Evening with the Avett Brothers,” which meant no opener. In old guy speak, that also meant we’d get more than two hours of music from the headliner and still be leaving the theater around 10:30. Winning! (Right?!)

The Avetts opened with “Die Die Die” and proceeded to kill it for the next 140 minutes. These guys can do a little bit of everything: raucous romps, slow burns, mournful moments. They criss-crossed through the catalog with ease. They profusely thanked the crowd every two or three songs. They had energy to spare throughout the set.

And if I were to start a “fantasy band” league, I’d have to rank Seth Avett as one of the blue-chip players. That guy can do so much so well. He played his guitar with reckless abandon, he showed great touch when manning the keys, and sang his heart out. And he did his best to propel the beat via stomping the stage at every turn.

Scott’s no slouch either, providing the signature banjo sounds and his own solid vocal work, and Bob Crawford owned the stand-up bass.

Perhaps the greatest moment of the night came just past the halfway point of the show. A single overhead spotlight shone down on Scott and Seth as they sang “Murder in the City,” a song from their 2008 EP The Second Gleam. The brothers stood within the small-diameter circle of light, singing “Always remember there was nothing worth sharing, like the love that let us share our name.” The simplicity of the song strips the lyrics bare, and their delivery comes off as sincere rather than hokey.

Then Scott walks off, leaving Seth alone in the spotlight, where the younger brother absolutely stunned the sold-out theater with his rendition of “Souls Like the Wheels” from the same EP. It was nothing short of magical to hear him deliver line after line, punctuated with the last verse:

Souls like the wings
Spreading out away from bad memories
Make us capable of taking off and landing
Alive with understanding
Let me go, let me go, let me go, let me go
Let me go, let me go, let me go, let me go

You could hear a pin drop for a few moments before the room came alive with hoots, hollers, applause, and screams of joy. It was one of those moments where I once again found myself entranced with live music, the kind of moment where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

It was also the kind of moment where you might fear the show, or at least the main set, was over. But nah…instead the stage lights come up, the rest of the band takes their places, and Seth says, “OK, I think we’re getting warmed up now.”

I didn’t shoot any video (too scared, as there were venue staff everywhere) but I see someone shot a song from the encore, another intimate affair from the Brothers Avett. Enjoy.

Something about live music in St. Louis. I’ve seen six shows there (The Cure, Jose Gonzalez, Explosions in the Sky, Interpol, M83, the Avetts) and all six were superb. Can’t wait to go back. And hopefully next year I’ll hit the Pygmalion in Champaign-Urbana…

Jul 25 2012

Today’s (Not-So-) Random Song in My Head: “Axel F”

record lodged in headRemember that time Todd and I went to the shitbag Union Bar in Iowa City to go see Neon Indian, and had to endure a couple of opening acts, one of which being Kreayshawn? (The oft-repeated Senior Picture Incident happened that night.)

The other opener, according to our crack research team (read: me Googling “neon indian kreayshawn union bar iowa city other guy”), was a rapper who goes by the moniker Probcause. In between incredible blasts of bass (the Union’s sound guy was struggling to equalize that night), he threw some stage banter at us. Now, granted, this is paraphrased, but Todd can verify the following quote is pretty much on point:

“Yo, yo, Iowa City! Yo, for realz, tho, for realz, Iowa fuckin’ City, yo! Shit, this is the shit right up in this bitch, Iowa City, yo! I be all walkin’ around, you got fuckin’ pianos on the sidewalks and shit, yo! Anyone can play ’em. This place is crazy, yo! People aks me where I want to be livin’, like Hawaii or some shit, I be all like, Iowa City, yo! They got pianos and shit!”

First, Probcause was WAAAAAAAAAAAAAY better than Kreayshawn.

Second, let me affirm what Probcause is preachin’: Iowa City has pianos and shit.

And people do play them. Sometimes it’s just someone fucking around playing “Chopsticks” or “Heart and Soul”; other times people are laying down some really great stuff; occasionally some individual of lesser fortune uses them as Porta-Potties. (I’m kidding: no one plays “Chopsticks.”)

This afternoon, however, as I was walking back to my office, someone decided to bust out one of my old stand-bys when tickling the ivories: “Axel F,” the famous instrumental by Harold Faltermeyer (born Harald Faltermeier) from Beverly Hills Cop. Hear it below; ignore the unrelated images.

First reaction: Who’s throwing down the Faltermeyer?

I look over and see three kids, more or less, by the piano. The one who was playing followed my playbook to a T: play the popular synth line twice, and then get the hell out. They giggled after finishing the second part, running off to presumably find the sheet music to the Fletch score to further their Harold Faltermeyer repertoire.

Harold FSecond reaction: Kids know “Axel F”? Maybe from that ringtone years ago?

Third: I didn’t get to see that movie in the theater.

This was devastating to me. Some of my friends were allowed to go, but not me. I was told the F-word was used too often, so I couldn’t go see it. I couldn’t believe my parents were being such hardliners; I was 10 years old, for fuck’s sake! Certainly old enough to enjoy the comedic leanings of Eddie Murphy and Judge Reinhold! And if my folks feared I would be exposed to subpar cinema, consider that Jonathan Banks, who plays the lovable Mike Ehrmantraut on Breaking Bad, was doing his thing as the hired muscle in this film. And the script was up for Best Original Screenplay! (The dialogue for Axel’s Detroit boss, Inspector Todd, probably sealed the nomination.)

My mom did offer me one option: go see the movie, then go to confession at St. Pat’s. Whether it was a bluff or not, I’ll never know; Catholic guilt kicked in and I ended up waiting for home rental from the local video store. That would have been one interesting confessional conversation…

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been however long it’s been since the Catholic grade school I attend forced me to admit to you a small sample of my transgressions.

Tell me your sins, my son.

Well, I said “Jesus Christ” once or twice while playing kickball at recess. I lied to my parents about eating Twinkies for breakfast the other day. And I saw that fucking Beverly Hills Cop movie.

Judge Reinhold was hilarious as Billy Rosewood, wasn’t he?

I know! And that soundtrack?

Indeed. Five Hail Marys.

Fourth thought: “Axel F” wasn’t even the best Harold Faltermeyer song in the movie. That would be “Shootout,” the B-side on the “Axel F” 45-RPM record. Feel the synthesized tension…

Side note: “Axel F” was not the lone instrumental theme song in my collection of 45s. I also had the Jan Hammer “Theme from Miami Vice” platter, but it paled in comparison to either side of the “Axel F” vinyl.

Fifth thought: Linda Cohn’s got all sorts of Crazy Eyes going on tonight. (Sorry, I have SportsCenter on while I’m typing this.)

Actual fifth thought: I made an omission in my post about my famous pretend girlfriends. I should have included Lisa Eilbacher—or more specifically, her BHC character, Jenny Summers—somewhere in the 1985-1986 period. She was blonde, living in California, cool enough to be pals with dudes like Axel Foley, and she could wear that 1980s-sweat-clothes look as well as anyone.

jenny summers and axel foley

Jenny Yummers, er, Summers, Axel Foley’s ’80s-hot friend in Beverly Hills Cop.

So yeah, I guess I went back to work at some point. But not before laughing about Catholic guilt and daydreaming about Jenny Summers. All because of Iowa City, with its pianos and shit.

Jul 20 2012

From the MoSS? Pit: The Dark Knight Rises

First off, what can be said about what happened in Aurora, Colorado? Jesus.

On a much lighter note, a quick snapshot of the MoSS? crew’s night out at the movies…

beers

Any excuse to go to BWW for some beers and wings (two and twelve, respectively).

About 10:50, we figured it was time to head to the theater, the legendary…

galaxy 16 cine exterior

(whispering) WEH-REN-BERG! WEH-REN-BERG! WEH-REN-BERG!

Parking lot was packed, but, well, you know, the new Madea movie was playing, so no surprise.

Once inside, on my way to the Fandango kiosk, I see a hero in line. I have to get my photo taken with him.

batman and an awesome writer

Batman (left) and Chris

As you might have assessed by the results of the pic, I skipped the asking permission part of the photo op. I put my arm around the dude, put the camera at arm’s length, and fired. I did say “thanks” though.

That is not Todd behind the mask, if you were wondering. Todd could never pull off that look.

We got there at 11, and still had to sit all the way in the second row from the front. My neck is killing me.

That is my only complaint from the night out. Solid movie. Satisfying conclusion to the trilogy. Especially the part where The Flash ran really fast through the streets of Smallville. That was unexpected.

3:05 a.m.

Old guys shouldn’t be out this late.

Jul 1 2012

The Seattle soundtrack that starred Smashing Pumpkins turns 20

Singles soundtrack cover imageWhen you visit the homes of people my age and take a peek at their CD shelves (only people my age still have CD shelves), you’ll likely find some common denominators in the soundtrack section*: Pulp Fiction, The Crow, Pump Up the Volume, Judgment Night (right?), Wayne’s World (for those who’ve never heard of Disc-Go-Round), and arguably the best soundtrack of that time, Singles.

(* I’m assuming everyone follows my lead and files their soundtracks separately, in ABC order, after the regular albums sorted A-Z by artist; those regular albums are sorted chronologically within the artist, with singles sorted outside of the full-length albums, and any bootlegs toward the end of the artist sort…)

We all owned the Singles soundtrack because it was 1992 and the movie was set in Seattle and had a lot of Seattle bands on the tracklist (despite no Nirvana). But now, as the soundtrack turns 20, we should ask “What was really so great about it?”

There are certainly good things here:

  • Two exclusive (and great, not throwaway) Pearl Jam songs*
  • A song from Alice in Chains upcoming masterpiece
  • An exclusive Soundgarden song
  • An acoustic solo jam by Chris Cornell
  • An underrated Hendrix song from Are You Experienced?

(* more on Pearl Jam later)

It also features:

  • An interesting Led Zep cover by the girls from Heart
  • A revered track by Mother Love Bone that I find boring
  • A by-the-numbers early ’90s song by Screaming Trees
  • A Mudhoney song that I always skipped because I never understood what everyone liked about Mudhoney
  • Two cheeseball suckfest tunes by Paul Westerberg

These bulleted lists don’t exactly support any statement about Singles being the best soundtrack of its era, but the next paragraph—which will consist of just one word—is all you need to make the case.

“Drown”

Smashing Pumpkins, more or less a one-man band (well, two, as Jimmy Chamberlin could not be sidelined in the studio by Billy Corgan like James Iha and D’Arcy were) from Chicago, fresh off the impressive debut album, Gish, dropped one of its three truly epic songs from the early days (“Silverfuck” and “Starla” being the other lengthy moments of genius) to close out the album. As someone who spent his senior year of high school listening to Gish on repeat and writing “Smashing Pumpkins” on desks throughout Waukon Senior High (especially in pre-calculus class; sorry about that, Mr. Strike), I was excited for new material.

And this was eight minutes of the Billy Fucking Corgan Experience. A nice groove, laid-back vocals, quiet-loud dynamics, killer drum fills, and then four minutes of feedback bliss, layered many times over. (One of the funniest Guitar World transcriptions ever was this song; I’m barely paraphrasing the annotations for the last four minutes: “Guitar 1-8: droning feedback for the next 60 measures”.) And as a result, the Windy City stole the show from the home team (even though many people back then probably lumped SP in with the “Seattle Scene”).

And because Pumpkins fans were somewhat obsessive even at this early stage, the entire soundtrack was a must-have. BECAUSE BACK IN MY DAY, WE DIDN’T HAVE NO FANCY iTUNES/BUY ONE SONG AT A TIME ON THE INTERWEBS ARRANGEMENT. WE COULDN’T SHARE MUSIC VIA NAPSTER OR GNUTELLA OR WHATEVER ELSE. WE DIDN’T HAVE SHINY CD-Rs AND 2x WRITE SPEED CD BURNERS! WE WENT TO MUSICLAND OR SAM GOODY OR BEST BUY AND GRABBED THOSE LONGBOX-PACKAGED CDs AND WE PAID MORE THAN WE SHOULD HAVE AND WE LIKED IT!

Anyway, what was I saying?

Oh yeah, Singles. Despite my dislike for a few tracks, this remains my favorite motion picture soundtrack from the flannel-adorned era. But while considering the merits of this soundtrack, I found myself admitting some truths, some that I couldn’t see back in the grunge days.

Namely, the movie really isn’t all that great. Certainly nowhere near as good as the soundtrack.

The Cameron Crowe flick about young pathetic adults in Seattle trying to figure out the method of modern love (an area of expertise for Hall & Oates) featured a long-haired Matt Dillon as a rocker dude in Seattle who DOESNT use heroin (what?!?); a boob-conscious Bridget Fonda who likes long-haired Matt Dillon but wishes the shiftless layabout would say “bless you” or “gesundheit” every time she spreads her vocal-crippling germs; an Xavier McDaniel-loving wussy (played by Campbell Scott) who wants to build trains all over the city so that he can continue to play with model trains in his apartment; and a “she’s kind of hot, I guess” Kyra Sedgwick, who doesn’t like Xavier McDaniel but likes to deliver and receive lines like “I was just nowhere near your neighborhood” as a prelude to sex romps with guys who do like Xavier McDaniel. (So far I might be overemphasizing Xavier McDaniel’s importance to the central plot.)

Initially it was easy to look past these lame lead characters because of all the musician cameos: Eddie, Jeff, and Stone from PJ as Dillon’s bandmates; Chris Cornell walking into the glass-shattering car stereo scene; live shots of Soundgarden and Alice in Chains. But once that novelty wears off, you have to deal with the uber-wuss Campbell Scott character and his convoluted road toward the improbable ensnaring of Mrs. Kevin Bacon, and the boring Matt Dillon-Bridget Fonda relationship, which finally coalesces once rocker boy finally says “bless you” after a sneeze*. The movie comes off feeling kind of corny now rather than cool or hip.

(* That specific aspect, the “I want a guy who says ‘bless you’ when I sneeze,” I really took that to heart. For my entire collegiate career, I found myself hoping to meet up with some hot chick, preferably one who suffers from hay fever, so I could drop the bless you line on them and then enjoy the acceleration into Intimacytown. Instead I got weird looks or perhaps a “thanks” and that was that. This movie made “bless you” out to be some sort of love hypnotism! Damn you, Crowe!)

Poor Pearl Jam.

Another crime committed by this movie: setting Pearl Jam up for a fall. The crew formerly known as Mookie Blaylock chipped in two solid tunes for the soundtrack, on the heels of its breakthrough debut album. The sky’s the limit, I said. But while Smashing Pumpkins rode the wave to new heights in the summer of 1993 with Siamese Dream, Pearl Jam would soon suffer some setbacks, one of which was completely out of the band’s control…

My entire freshman year at UNI, rooms up and down my corner of Rider Hall were blaring Ten, which wasn’t exactly a new album at this point but still a big deal. I remember one night where we feared one of our buddies had overindulged in the beer department, only to have him spring to life from the couch (or floor, who can remember) to join Eddie for the chorus of “Alive”. I remember the group sing-alongs we would have to the verses of “Even Flow” (“REEEEE-SAYYYYYYYY NUMMA NUMMA NUMMA NUMMA NUMMA MADE OF CONCRETE!”) Each Friday, as many students would grab their suitcases and head for their cars, someone would blare “Why Go” and crack open another 12-ounce container of Milwaukee’s Best Light. It was great, the soundtrack to life in the dorms.

But when I returned in the fall of 1993 for my sophomore year, some dudes were still playing it. All. The. Time.

I’m as guilty as the next guy of overkill. My roommate that year told me I ruined Siamese Dream for him because of how frequently I played it. But at least it was fresh! Before long, Ten became unlistenable by choice, dropping PJ a notch or two below the lofty altitudes cruised by the Pumpkins and Nirvana.

And then PJ put out Vs., an album I actually pre-purchased at Sam Goody. I was soon longing for another 638 listens to Ten, as Vs. was pretty much ZZZZZZZ for me. (Did Pearl Jam ever pull out of this tailspin? I heard they kept making records despite my disapproval…)

Yes, the soundtrack is good, but No Alternative is the better ’90s time capsule.

cover from no alternativeIt’s not apples to apples, since one is a soundtrack and the other is a fundraising compilation, and one basically limits itself to Seattle while the other can pick and choose from the entire “alternative” genre. But if I’m going to take an early ’90s nostalgia trip via a prepackaged CD, I’m going to choose No Alternative over Singles. The 1993 compilation has “Glynis,” an exclusive track from the Pumpkins (not on the same level as “Drown,” but it’s one of Billy’s nice quiet moments). We get an oral history of R.E.M. courtesy of Pavement’s “Unseen Power of the Picket Fence.” We get a nice track from Sarah McLachlan before she became synonymous with mistreated animals and the largest-ever synchronized ovulation. Bob Mould’s song is heartfelt. Urge Overkill’s 15 minutes of fame happened around this time; as such, we get a song from them. Soundgarden and Sonic Youth make an appearance. The Breeders and the Beastie Boys offer live tracks (the latter is really interesting, a great run-through of a Licensed to Ill gem).

And this time, we get Nirvana. We didn’t know this (or at least I didn’t know this) when we grabbed the CD, as the song wasn’t listed on the back cover. But once the last listed track (a cool Patti Smith performance) runs out, we are greeted by clean chords and Kurt’s voice, followed quickly by the click of a distortion pedal and Nirvana’s wonderful mix of fuzz and pop. This song rivals some of their most enjoyable pop, right up there with “About a Girl” and “Lithium.”

Yeah, there are some tracks I skip (that would be you, Soul Asylum). But at least no one sings about having a dyslexic heart here.

May 4 2012

From the MoSS? Pit: M83/I Break Horses

m83

M83 performing at the Pageant on May 2, 2012. Photo from Chris’ iPhone.

Where to start…

How about with this: I wish I lived at the Pageant in St. Louis, as long as cool bands keep coming through there. I’ve seen three shows there, and they all probably rank among my favorite 10 shows of all time (Explosions in the Sky, Interpol/School of Seven Bells, M83). The sound is amazing. Sight lines are good pretty much everywhere. If you want to dance and jump around, the floor beckons. If you’re old like me, you can grab a seat in the balcony. The middle of the semi-circle balcony provides a great head-on view; the sides put you very close to the stage, but because of the perfect sound, you aren’t obliterated by the nearby speakers. At the Interpol show, they even had a wait staff coming around the balcony, taking drink orders. (The only order involving Pageant staff this time: I was ordered to stop recording video during the show. Boo.)

In other words, it’s the anti-Gabe’s.

I Break Horses

Maria Linden

Maria Linden

I knew nothing about this band when we left Iowa; Todd brought along the debut LP on his mp3 player, so I at least got a taste of what we were in for. The songs were pretty cool, but I had no idea we’d be watching Rachel Bilson’s doppelganger on lead vocals. That was a pleasant surprise. (And when I say Rachel Bilson-esque, think Summer after she started dating Seth Cohen on The O.C., not quite as glossy as when we first met her and Marissa Cooper, but still smokin’ hot.)

The music was pretty good, too. The drummer was playing an interesting set; I don’t recall seeing a electronic kick drum in action before. Rachel Bilson (real name: Maria Linden) had tons of charisma, which compensated for the occasional dropoff in her mic (OK, so the sound isn’t always perfect for the openers). They were a good warmup for M83, and earned another listen during our return trip to Iowa.

Here’s their rendition of the first song from their album:

Now’s the time on MoSS Pit where we acknowledge college kids who review the arts

Before I say anything about M83’s set, you can get another take at the following link.

http://blogs.riverfronttimes.com/rftmusic/2012/05/m83_pageant_review_setlist_photos.php

If you click that link, you’ll read a review by Blair Stiles, who may or may not be a distant relative of Teen Wolf’s good friend. She noticed Todd and me in the balcony (“middle aged men…sprinkled in the balcony”), but Todd and I are used to getting noticed when we go out (no senior pictures changed hands this time, though). She also gave us some important details (“The woman in front of me was so close that I had to keep brushing her well-conditioned locks off my notebook”; “Despite tight security, I smelled a spliff or two being lit up through the night”). It’s a fascinating read. The description doesn’t resemble the scene I remember, but all the same, a must-read.

To be fair, Blair got some things right

OK, her review rang true on two occasions:

  • The response to the sax player, who killed it at the end of “Midnight City” in particular
  • The guy who won the contest to tour with M83 was a lot of fun to watch

The use of a sax player can be a dangerous proposition. Sometimes it works:

But if you don’t have superstars like Simon Le Bon to keep the brass man in check, you end up dealing with this:

Or this (shudder):

Thankfully, M83’s sax guy was epic in a true sense. He did his thing, delighted the crowd, and left. Well done, sax man.

And yeah, the guy who played some guitar and bass and electronic cowbell was fun to watch. Energetic, multitalented, and able to pull off wearing a shirt that looked something like a Blackburn Rovers top (my Premier League-loving friends are nodding and smiling right now). But come on, he’s not the mastermind here…

That’s Anthony, without a doubt

He was confident in his singing. And despite what Blair Stiles might tell you, he wasn’t afraid to roam away from his keyboard setup and rock out. He would approach singer/keyboardist Morgan Kibby (a hot little number herself), and shred the hell out of his guitar while channeling his inner Prince, dropping to his knees before Morgan in an attempt to sex things up, perhaps.

And you can’t beat the Frenchman’s accent. “She worships Zatan like ay fazzer” (read: she worships Satan like a father); “Death izzer boyfriends” (read: Death is her boyfriend); “Zaint Loo-eez!” (read: St. Louis!).

The show was sequenced well: a natural starter (“Intro” from Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming), a soaring song from mid-catalog (“Teen Angst” from Before the Dawn Heals Us), and one of the big songs from the 2008 breakthrough album (“Graveyard Girl” from Saturdays=Youth). Then the new single (“Reunion”) from the latest album. We got a song off the eponymous debut, we got a Daft Punk cover, and we got more epic songs from Hurry Up (“Steve McQueen” and 2011 Song of the Year candidate “Midnight City”).

And the decision to have live drums was a good one, and employing this particular drummer (Loic Maurin) is an even better choice. Damn he was tight! Live drums allow these songs to pack an even greater emotional punch.

Here’s a good portion of “Teen Angst.” I made sure to record this song (as much as I could get away with, anyway) because it was my introduction to M83. Shortly after my son was born in 2006, my friend Jeff had sent me some CD-Rs full of random tunes, and this song was one of the standouts. I decided to become an M83 fan. I was justly rewarded with Saturdays=Youth and Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming in the years to follow.

You know what was so cool about this show? The fans—young and old, hipster and bro, cool and nerdy—all were appreciative of the show they’d seen. And the band that was showered with this affection seemed genuinely moved by the standing O they received after a blistering encore consisting of Saturdays=Youth gems “Skin of the Night” and “Couleurs”. Even the hyperactive guitar man and the ultra-suave sax guy seemed moved by the crowd’s roars of approval.

They earned them.