How In Hell Do You Pronounce Hoboken, Anyway?
One more video before bedtime: found this video of one of my favorite bands doing one of my fave songs: The Feelies, doing “Away”. I remember seeing them live with my buddy Mark, opening for Lou Reed on his “New York” tour at the American Theater in St. Louis. (Mark yelling out “Lighten up, Lou!!!” was priceless…btw Mark, the post-it I wrote your number on went through the laundry; gimme a call so we can catch up on Mizzou hoops, dude)
Glenn Mercer just shreds one of my favorite guitar solos ever about halfway through. Enjoi!
Permalink Comments Off on How In Hell Do You Pronounce Hoboken, Anyway?
This Is A Very Cool Video.
The Softlightes album is finally due out (nearly a year after it almost came out on Bar-None in March, 2006) the day before Valentine’s. Here’s the first video for the song “Heart Made Of Sound”. Although the song is a bit to Flaming Lips-y for me, the video is transfixing. I can’t stop watching it!
Permalink Comments Off on This Is A Very Cool Video.
The Race for best disc of 2007 may already be over.
Yes, I’m digging the Shins disc.
Yes, the Softlightes (not “The Soft Lightes” or “The Softlightes” as they have previously incarnated themselves, but simply “Softlightes”) disc is kicking my ass, too.
Looks like my favorite disc of 2007 though (and I’m having a hard time hearing something in my mind’s ear that’ll top it) might already be decided, and it might be Sloan’s new one, cleverly titled NEVER HEAR THE END OF IT.
First off, [iI know you hipsters north of the border have had this to listen to since October, 2006.[/i] I’m going by the Stateside release, which happened to be last week. Ok, I’ll admit that I ponied up double the list price to get an import of this back in October; I’ll also admit that Sloan’s first studio album in nearly 3 years left me absolutely cold after a half-dozen attempts to get through it, and I put it away meaning to file it for one of 2007’s greatest disappointments.
Last week, I’m setting up my new replacement iPod, and it accidentally transfers nearly 3/4ths of my music library over. Yikes! Lots of goofy one-offs and ephemera I had snagged to potentially use on long-forgotten mix cd’s there (why on god’s green earth did I want or need a copy of a Lemon Pipers song that wasn’t “Green Tambourine”????). It grabbed music I’d probably not listen to at all and stuffed it onto my iPod. Part of that dross was NEVER HEAR THE END OF IT. Of course I’m too lazy to rapidly remove unwanted songs/artists/albums from said iPod, so last week while cleaning the house, I decide on a whim to give NEVER HEAR one last chance. This time, though, instead of “speed-reading” through the record to find the choicest cuts (which is what the reliable arena-rock sound these Halifax boys had devolved to on their last few studio efforts had me resorting to), I start this from the beginning and let it unfurl all 30 of its songs (yeah, 30; I told you that the album title was pretty clever, as in “self-deprecatingly”) at its own pace.
Taken in that full-on dose, I realize something: I don’t hate that disc as much as I remembered. In fact….I sorta liked it. Enough so that I punched it back up and listened to the whole damn thing again. Then I gave it another listen. For the last 9 days or so, this is the only CD I’ve played, in fact, over and over and over again.
One of my favorite memories of childhood was taking long car trips on vacation, my indulging mother (or brother) allowing me control of the radio dial. Back in the 1970’s, you used to be able to pull in all sorts of weird stations with oddball playlists (the days before de-regulation and satellite programming, how I miss them). You’d hear Edison Lighthouse doing “Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)” into “Dancing Queen”, into the Marshall Tucker Band…and it all seemed to somehow fit together. The reason I digress to this is that the new Sloan disc reminds me of what you might hear by letting one of those weird AM stations in the middle-of-nowhere play on a sun-splashed summer day on the open interstate. You’ll hear fist-pumping arena rock (“Ill Placed Trust”), weird ELO-sounding blue-eyed soul (“Who Taught You To Live Like That”), or sweet ballads (“Live The Life You’re Dreaming Of”, which sounds like a massive 1975 AM radio hit, and could be the best prom theme song no one’s ever heard). Sometimes there are a bunch of twists and turns crammed right into one song, too (“Fading Into Obscurity”, “I’ve Gotta Try”, and “Ana Lucia”). There’s even a goofy, winning stab at old-skool hardcore punk buried in here (“HFXNSHC”, which if you were a punker in the mid-1980’s–and know where Sloan hails from–requires no deciphering whatsoever.)
The album flows by organically and smoothly, with each song crossfaded into the songs that surround it, creating natural segues and a “song suite” feel like that album long thing on ABBEY ROAD. That it all holds up over 30 songs is some kind of lunatic genius.
Let’s do some Sloaning, here. First off, a couple of fave tunes from NEVER HEAR THE END OF IT:
“Fading Into Obscurity”
“Who Taught You To Live Like That”
“I’ve Gotta Try”
Also, try a live video of “Ill Placed Trust”:
And while we’re on videos, this might be the sweetest, most charming, most awesome, “here’s why this is my favorite band” video EVAR. (Apparently Sloan bassist/singer Chris Murphy had noticed during rehearsals for the Ovation Music Festival in Ontario that the promoter’s very young daughter was sporting various Sloan t-shirts, and was singing along to their songs…so at the actual concert, he brought her up on stage…and, well, you can’t fake this kind of genuine coolness.)
The Coolest 9 minutes of music television, ever.
Apropos of absolutely nothing, I stumbled across this clip on Youtube a few months ago and have been meaning to share. I mean, holy crap, I dunno how many greenies Marriott was on here, but he looks like he s about to go bouncing right off the stage.
RIP Stevie and Plonk!
Permalink Comments Off on The Coolest 9 minutes of music television, ever.
2006 Top 20 continued!
10. Radio Birdman, ZENO BEACH.
Take a minute and think of the coolest human you’ve ever known. Now up the ante and try to come up with the coolest human you’ve ever heard of…Got someone in mind? Cool. Now I’ll go out on a limb and say that whomever it is you’re thinking of, they’re maybe only 25% as cool as Radio Birdman guitarist/songwriter/svengali Deniz Tek. Bear with me for a few paragraphs, because this guy is one of the most fascinating characters in rock history.
You wanna make a movie about Rock and Roll? Make it about Dr. Tek. Deniz grew up in Ann Arbor and as a teenager began hanging out in the scene that brought the world the MC5 and the Stooges…to the point where just before he shipped off to Australia for medical school, he’d acquired one of Fred “Sonic” Smith’s vintage axes. In Australia in the mid-1970’s, he found some likeminded fellows and put together Australia’s most important prehistoric alternative band, Radio Birdman. Combining Detroit punk, surfy guitars, and even a dollop of Blue Oyster Cultish metal, the Birdman had a unique sound that was a touchstone for Ozzie bands as far flung on the musical landscape as Midnight Oil and INXS. Birdman managed two albums during their career, but called it quits in 1980 when Tek got his medical degree and moved back to the States….
…Where he enlisted in the US Navy and began fighter training school at the exclusive posting in Pensacola. Some guys researching a film met Tek and got wind of his “Iceman” handle, thought it was cool, and the rest is TOP GUN history. After 10 years as a fighter pilot/flight surgeon, Tek moved to The Dakotas and became an ER trauma doc. He also started hearing missives from the masses. The criminally ignored Radio Birdman had become latter-day critical darlings, a secret shared by bomber-jacketed enspectacled music geeks like one of the names of god. In 2001 Sub Pop released a compilation CD that was hailed throughout the music press and gobbled up by bands who’d only heard of the band in vague legends.
And so that brings us to 2006 and ZENO BEACH, the first new Radio Birdman album in 25 years. It isn’t that this is a swell comeback album–because it is, obviously. What it is is that this record has no right or reason to be as utterly amazing as it is. The various Birdmen are all well into their fifties now, but if you didn’t know you sure wouldn’t be able to tell by giving ZENO a spin. The explicatory “We’ve Come So Far (To Be Here Today)” kicks things off with the best opening track call to arms of the year. The band wastes no time in shifting to the riff-heavy “You Just Make It Worse”, and things just keep cranking from there. The whole group of geezers sounds energized beyond anything I’d ever think them capable of, but new drummer Russel Hopkinson (of You Am I) really helps push this whole thing from rock goodness to rock greatness with his relentless Moonish flourishes. If anything, ZENO BEACH is even *heavier* than the earlier incarnation of Birdman, and occasionally, things sorta lag a bit in the middle of the record.
The title track that closes everything out redeems all that and then some. “Zeno Beach” rolls along with the thunder of the rest of the album, but also with a deft melodic touch, some Ventures-esque guitar flourishes, and a brilliant closing kick. The song serves as something of a promise of more to come, that Radio Birdman have some more great rock and roll in them, regardless of their fossilized status.
“We’ve Come So Far To Be Here Today” (Full length)
“You Just Make It Worse” (Full length)
9. Sonic Youth, RATHER RIPPED.
Is there an act in rock history with a more fascinating creative arc than Sonic Youth’s? Seemingly eager to transcend their arty-no wave noise rock beginnings in the early ’80’s, they made a definitive artistic statement in the massively melodic and challenging DAYDREAM NATION in 1987, and then managed a commercial stab at the brass ring with GOO a few years later…
…and then spent much of the 1990’s making records that were so predictably unpredictable that they ended up…well…boring. Thurston Moore and Lee Ranaldo have always had the ability to effortlessly toss off oddly interesting guitar sounds, but SY seemed unable or unwilling to find real songs to wed those sounds to for nearly a decade, and it seemed like the world sorta forgot about these folks. I know I did.
Imagine my surprise a few years ago when I approached their SONIC NURSE album ready to be bored, and instead heard hints and suggestions of the brilliance of earlier works like SISTER and DAYDREAM NATION. What the heck? I thought The Yoot retired that sound a decade earlier? Obviously not.
Which brings us to RATHER RIPPED, which happens to be the best Sonic Youth album since NATION, which is saying something. Apparently Moore has been earning some checks on the side writing music squiggles for a national wireless commercial campaign, and one can hear echoes of the succinct accessibility spread out all over RATHER RIPPED. For one thing, the record opens with the hottest 1-2-3 punch in the band’s career, with “Reena”, “Incinerate”, and “(Do You Believe In) Rapture”. If they let off the gas a bit after that, a track like the elliptical “Turquoise Boy” picks things right up again with a lovely, haunting guitar figure and vocal by Kim Gordon. (Let me take a minute to say that early on in my exposure to Sonic Youth, songs with Kim’s vocals appealed to me about as much as the songs on John Lennon records with Yoko singing. Kim has really refined her singing without compromising herself or selling out; that two of my favorite tracks on this record–“Reena” and “Turquoise Boy”–feature her singing speaks volumes to the way these folks have evolved.)
The next ten picks are going to be rife with references to age; things from here on out seem basically split between geezers and greenhorns. Let me say then, that the ability of Sonic Youth to forge a 25-years-and-still-going career in music without ever selling out their original artistic vision is something to salute and hold them in highest esteem for. RATHER RIPPED may not be the best disc of the year, but when this record hits its peaks, no other disc from 2006 ascends higher.
“Reena” (full length)
“Incinerate”
“(Do You Believe In) Rapture” (full length)
“Tourquoise Boy” (full length)
8. Van Hunt, ON THE JUNGLE FLOOR
Let me list the crimes of Van Hunt right from the get-go: JUNGLE FLOOR is about four songs too long, and Van is a little too hung up on another funky guitar-playing R&B hero from years past (that album cover features purple a little TOO prominently). That’s about all I got here.
Hunt knows his musical forbears well–JUNGLE FLOOR is filled with knowing nods to Curtis Mayfield, Sly Stone, and even Shuggie Otis; in the case of the most obvious touchstone, it can be said pretty confidently that this year Van Hunt made a better Prince album than, well, Prince. Hunt even throws in a little sweaty Lenny Kravitz guitar funk workout on “Ride Ride Ride”…and yeah, it sounds better than anything LK has put out in a decade.
While “Hot Stage Lights” gets things shaking early, it isn’t until “Ride”, “Being A Girl”, and “Suspicion (She Knows Me Too Well)” that this record takes off. Many in the so-called neo soul genre can blandly ape the sound of an old Al Green or Marvin Gaye record, but Hunt here crosses genres and sounds like crazy, the mark of a genius who has absorbed his influences but isn’t locked into just blandly parroting them. As a result, a song like “Suspicion” has a slick Prince-esque guitar figure, a sweet Curtis Mayfield vocal, and a funky, nagging Family Stone horn section tying it all together and making the song into something wholly original.
And yeah, we gotta mention the Iggy cover. Grabbing the obscure “No Sense Of Crime” from that late-period Iggy/James Williamson period was an interesting choice, for starters. Hunt manages to find a sweet groove with it, removes the weird claustrophobia of the original, and manages one of the most unique and excitingly original covers in recent memory.
Van Hunt’s Myspace Page. Go nuts on “End Of A Slow Dance” and the awesome “Priest Or Police”.
7. The Hold Steady, BOYS AND GIRLS IN AMERICA
If you’re a music fan, this year you heard a rumbling from just over the horizon, perhaps felt a tremor in the ground under your feet anytime the subject of The Hold Steady came up. Yeah, that Hold Steady backlash is building up, ready to unfurl and strike at some point here if it hasn’t already. The hipsters who discovered the band and claimed first rights back in 2004 have really thrown these guys under the bus for the unforgiveable crime of….well, being really freaking amazing, I guess.
It has long been a debate amongst the indie-minded as to whether a fiercely independent artist ends up gravitating towards the mainstream, or whether the mainstream ends up embracing the independent. I hear a lot of Hold Steady early adopters claiming that the band has sold them out because now they….well, what, exactly? The Hold Steady has always been about gigantic arena-rock riffs and Craig Finn’s gonzo delivery of his weirdly poetic lyrics, and they certainly haven’t changed that on BOYS AND GIRLS. Maybe because there seemed to be a unifying concept to the debut, and because there absolutely was an album long story thread to SEPARATION SUNDAY, and maybe because that seems absent from the new disc….no that can’t be it either, can it?
In this case, I think what we have is definitive evidence of the mainstream approaching the indie. The big separator in the Hold Steady’s case has always been Finn’s voice and “singing” style, which always gets prominent play, and seems dramatically unsuited for mass appeal. At least that was the idea for the smug indie kids: it gave them an “out” to let them actually rock out for a change, so long as they thought that Finn’s vocals would keep the frat boys at bay. Here’s the thing though–all that crap is overblown. Finn might have a radically different vocal approach, but it takes about 10 minutes to get used to, and then the brilliance of the choices he makes and the way the band delivers the goods makes it all good for even the most mainstream of palates. With Finn doing a little more conventional singing on the new disc, the Springsteen comparisons are even more inevitable, and perhaps thats why the band is being thrown under the bus by its early champions.
One of the great critical kisses of death in years past was being anointed as “The New Dylan”; it cursed commercial careers from John Prine to Loudoun Wainwright to Donovan. They finally hung that tag on the right guy, though, and Bruce Springsteen took it and ran with it. The reason it fit him like a crown of gold instead of thorns is that The Boss was the real goods–he understood the sound and poetry of what he was doing, and could transform it into mainstream appeal. And so but now with BOYS AND GIRLS we can pass on the crown of “New Springsteen” once and for all to The Hold Steady. Like Bruce, these fellows know what they want, and seem to know exactly where they’re going. Long live The Hold Steady!
“Chips Ahoy”
“Massive Nights”
“Stuck Between Stations”
6. The Society Of Rockets, WHERE THE GRASS GROWS BLACK.
There’s one major reason that people who have heard “indie rock” hate it and everything about it–lately “indie” is just a code word for “precious” or “over-weaning”; too many bands hailed by the halfwit magpie-brained pitchfork writers make music that sounds like the audio equivalent of wretched fingerpaintings on a doting mother’s refrigerator door. Small wonder then, that the few critics who bothered with this disc dismissed it completely; GRASS GROWS BLACK is about as fey, mannered, and precious as an Australian-rules football game.
That’s the best thing about this disc, the sophomore effort from a San Francisco band that used to do the pretentious indie thing to death in an earlier incarnation as the Shimmer Kids. This disc sees them finding their voice, in this case channeling early 1970’s rock from a place where soul, funk, and rock all met one another on equal terms. In fact, The Society Of Rockets at times sounds like nothing so much as Janis Joplin fronting Exile-era Rolling Stones…and yeah, I think that comparison holds even though Society frontman Josh Babcock is a guy.
Getting the sound right is only half the battle though, and this record would go nowhere fast except for the fact that it is laced with some of the year’s best and most ass-kicking rock and roll songs. If the opening track, “Tangerines & Cigarettes” doesn’t have you wanting to shake it like you’re at Altamont, then maybe the swaggering, sweaty, greasy “Out In The Evening”, “End Of The Line”, and “Ballroom Kicks” will get your butt moving.
Surprisingly, TSoR can do nuance, too. “Suicide Summer” is a lovely, layered, soulful lament, and the eleven-minute closer, “Old Glory” is worth every second of investment it requires. Both songs are given bigger life and brighter color than they might otherwise possess thanks to Babcock’s impassioned, over-the-top vocals. His voice would probably make most professional voice coaches cringe, but for fierceness, passion, and balls-to-the-wall, pour-it-all out soulfulness, no singer this year topped him.
“Tangerines & Cigarettes”
“Ballroom Kicks”
“End Of The Line”
5. The Weather Machines, THE SOUNDS OF PSEUDOSCIENCE
Perhaps it’s the unlikeliness of their backstory (a band of geeks from South Dakota fronted by an electrical engineer), perhaps it’s lead singer Jason Ward’s vocal ability to channel a less-yelpy Ted Leo, or maybe the insistent brilliance of J. Waylon Miller’s drumming, but this record is the embodiment of the whole far outreaching the sum of its parts. I mean, on paper, there’s just not that much spectacular going on here–chunky, amateurish guitar riffs, three-chord melodies, and vocals that sound lifted right from the 1980’s new wave how-to book.
Thankfully, we listen with our ears instead of on paper, and you’ll hear what I mean about 10 seconds into this startling debut’s opening track, “Modern Text On Love”. Built around a nagging melody, whomping rhythm, and clever run-on lyrics sung with incredible earnestness by Ward, its an instantly likeable anthem that sets the tone for the rest of the record. Lest you be thinking that nothing on the disc can approach that first track…well, just as things start to lag a little, The Weather Machines roll out three of the best rock and roll tracks released this year: “Latest In Company Brides”, the sublime “Old School Vs. Liberty Girls”, and “Last Stop”.
Which brings me to the point in this list where I mention that it’s bands like The Weather Machines–groups who come from the middle of nowhere and manage to take something overfamiliar and make something fresh and exciting out of it–folks like this are the reason I hope I never get too old for that Devil’s Music The Kids Are Digging So Much Nowadays. There’s a moment on the bridge of “Old School Vs. Liberty Girls”, when Miller plays an awesome snare/cymbal counterpoint to Ward’s guitar, and then brings the whole thing back home with an awesome snare roll into the final chorus that still–maybe a hundred plays later–gives me goosebumps. The Weather Machines have such an air of charming inspired amateurism going on throughout the record, that hearing that bravado Charlie-Watts-ish bravado turn come outta nowhere just knocks the socks off. No idea if The Weather Machines can top this, but they certainly are a band to watch–if they can figure out how to keep things going now that half the band lives in Portland Oregon.
“Modern Text On Love”
“Last Stop”
Better yet, you can still hear the whole record right here at the band’s website. (The radio controller is in the top left corner of the screen. You gotta hear “Old School Vs. Liberty Girls”, seriously.)
4. The Essex Green, CANNIBAL SEA.
I’m as guilty of overindulging in retro pop as the next pop knob, believe you me. I’ll hear a song that sounds like a passably modern update of The Turtles or Love, and I’ll just go ga-ga beyond all reasonable need….and then realize a week later that the same song sort of sucks, since all it is is a pale imitation of something better.
The retro-pop tag is a nasty one to hang on a band, frankly, because it implies a lack of creativity, a paint by numbers approach to making music. No musical artist can escape the influences of music they heard and enjoyed in their formative years, but “retro pop” seems to imply that those cursed with that tag are unable to rise above the sum of their influences and instead are bound to them like a ball and chain.
All of which goes to say that since the first Essex Green song I heard back in 2000, I’d tossed them onto the retro-pop scrap heap, and I’ll stand by that–their early releases just sound formulaic and wholly derivative to me. That impression I held of The Essex Green kept me away from this disc for over a month, despite it receiving glowing reviews around and about.
I finally took the plunge and….in a word, “wow.” Whatever was going on on earlier EG releases, well, that’s in the past. What’s going on with CANNIBAL SEA is that you have a band, obviously well-informed with classic 60’s pop, using it as a springboard (instead of a crutch) to launch an album full of swell songs that are more timeless than retro, to paraphrase their record company’s publicity flack.
The biggest thing this new disc has going for it is songwriting. “This Isn’ Farmlife” and “Don’t Know Why (You Stay)” are an incredible opening wallop that also neatly shows off the respective vocal skills of Sasha Bell and Chris Ziter. (When Bell takes lead vocal duties, this new Essex Green iteration sounds like nothing so much as a more classicist version of Rilo Kiley, especially on tracks like “Farmlife” and “Uniform”; take note, fans of Jenny Lewis.) CANNIBAL SEA is just stuffed with terrific songs and amazing bravado flourishes of arranging and composing, from the guitar builds on “Stay” to the call and response between Bell and Ziter on “Snakes In The Grass”.
“Don’t Know Why (You Stay”
Essex Green’s Myspace page
3. Steve Wynn And The Miracle 3, …TICK…TICK…TICK
You ever wonder what happens to yesteryear’s niche/cult rock and roll heroes? I do. Like, what the heck are the guys in JFA or Saccharine Trust doing nowadays? Did the folks in Fetchin’ Bones ever find gainful employment? Is the dude from the Georgia Satellites selling insurance these days?
I can tell you for a certainty that it must be awfully tough for yesterday’s independent-minded rock and roller to carry on into their elder years. I mean, if the Kirkwood Brothers want to make another Meat Puppets disc, I’m pretty sure they’re footing the bill for the creation and distribution of that themselves. I’m equally sure that when an old warhorse like Steve Wynn sits down to write a new solo album, there are no record execs promising him that he’s on the verge of stardom (and yeah, that happened back in the heyday of Wynn’s first band, The Dream Syndicate).
No one would blame Wynn, then, if he decided to call it a day and do something else with his time….and it is affirming beyond belief for this particular old fogey listener that the 47-year-old Wynn is refusing to go gently into that good night–not that his band, the appropriately named Miracle 3, would let him. Although he’s been on a wonderful creative roll for the past three albums, this 2006 release is the pinnacle of Wynn’s solo career thus far, and that it points for even greater things to come is all the more reason to celebrate it.
Although most reviews of this disc will focus on Wynn (and we’ll surely get to him), I wanna start off talking about The Miracle 3. I saw Wynn on the tour he did in 1997 with ZuZu’s Petals, and wasn’t surprised when he recruited their drummer, Linda Pitmon away, as she was one of the most electric drummers I’ve ever seen. She’s the secret weapon of Wynn’s resurgence, a killer arranger and even more ingenious a player. Despite her cuddly, waiflike appearance, behind the drums she turns into Keith Moon. Dave DeCastro is an excellent bassist, I’m sure….and then there’s lead guitarist Jason Victor. I have *no* idea where Steve Wynn found him, or what Victor did before embarking on this career, but he so effortlessly channels the Holy Trinity of New York Punk Guitarists (Lloyd, Verlaine, and Quine, if you were wondering) that if you want to believe he was beamed in from some alternate dimension, I’m good with that. Whatever their origins, the Miracle 3 is one helluva backing band, and they push Wynn….
…and the Old Man is clearly up to the task. …TICK is loaded up with some of the best songs in Wynn’s career, as good as his ’97 disc MELTING IN THE DARK (my favorite album of that year) and even going back to that remarkable first Dream Syndicate long player. If Wynn gets your attention with the punk snarl of “Wired”, it is the second track in, “Cindy It Was Always You” that will have you punching the repeat button on your iPod. Co-written with crime novelist/”The Wire” screenwriter/Wynn fanboi George Pelecanos, “Cindy” is a noir novel/”Wire” episode brought to life in all it’s gruesome, jarring glory. Wynn then shakes loose the sheathing from the wires on the Bo Diddley-on-meth raveup of “Killing Me”, before finally loosening the grip a little on the meditative “Deep End”, maybe the loveliest song Steve’s ever penned.
Wynn has a closing kick here, too, and it’s a doozy. The Petty-esque “Bruises” eventually gives way to …TICK’s closer, “No Tomorrow”, which Rolling Stone columnist David Fricke labeled as “Wynn’s ‘Layla'”. Sure, it has a two-part structure, but while Layla gets all wimpy and soggy, “No Tomorrow” roars to a ragged, perfect finish.
The entire disc sounds as if it were recorded live, possessing an immediacy and “art as it happens” vibe that gives an already vibrant album an almost crackling electric jolt. And–hard as it may be to chart on a career arc–Steve Wynn sounds as reborn and fresh as he ever has, making his best music in the third decade of his recording career. He and Pelecanos are already talking about working a collaborative effort for the next Wynn/Miracle 3 disc, and if “Cindy It Was Always You” is an indicator, that meeting of the minds could be a wonder to behold.
“Cindy It Was Always You”
“Wired”
Nearly hidden radio player on the right side of the screen to hear “Bruises” and “No Tomorrow” in their glorious entirety.
2. The Modern Machines, TAKE IT, SOMEBODY
I’ve probably bored way too many friends and acquaintances with tales of how hearing my first Husker Du and Replacements songs in the same week back in 1985 saved my rock and roll life. My friend Marc has a similar story about hearing Soul Asylum doing a live version of “Jukebox Hero” from that same year. I’d imagine if you asked a lot of us old fogeys, we might all have our Minneapolis indie rock redemption tales. Those heroes of yesteryear have moved on, and are doing their own things; the records they make these days are a little slicker, a little more informed by the wisdom of years and ages, a little more world-weary. We buy new Paul Westerberg and Bob Mould discs and occasionally sigh and think about the first time we heard HOOTENANNY or NEW DAY RISING, and get all wistful and nostalgic…
…and then along comes a band like Milwaukee’s The Modern Machines to kick our nostalgia trip right upside the ass. Now yeah, I know that there have been a handful of bands who too closely worship at the Replacements Altar (Goo Goo Dolls, I’m looking at you), able to sound the right notes without doing anything original enough on their own to rate much excitement. Now I’d imagine that by now the Momacs have heard early records from The Mats, the Huskers, and Soul Asylum, but what makes them (and this record) so damn great is that they seem to have stumbled on their sound accidentally–if frontman Nato Paisano (yeah, his real name) sounds as if he’s channeling a teenaged Dave Pirner playing Bob Stinson guitar licks, it’s coincidental, not over-obvious homage.
It takes a few spins for TAKE IT, SOMEBODY to work its magic. “Flash Infatuation” is the first song to hang your hat on, with the best “whoah-oh” chorus in over a decade. “You’re Getting Married” is an angry rant about an ex-girlfriend that would do prime Westerberg proud. “Cheap Rent, Cheap Beer, Cheap Shots” is the obvious anthem, what you’d get if HOOTENANNY-era ‘Mats ever decided to do Springsteen. There are some goofy, sloppy digressions, too, like “Elegy For Love” that nearly fall apart, but end up endearing after a couple of times through. Better yet is “Pay Off The Hangman”, which manages to be epic despite it’s less-than-three minutes length. You’ll see what I mean halfway through when the MoMacs show off their ragged chops and turn the whole thing into a heavy heavy metal workout before kicking it back into a coda of the first verse.
Paisano handles most of the songwriting chores here, and if he isn’t quite able to turn a phrase like his ancestors, he’s at least able to come up with some pretty memorable lines (like on “What I Be Leavin'”: “Well I grew up in a strange little town/With a lot of Republicans around”). “The Road I Didn’t Take” is a wonderful anthemic spilling of the MoMac’s raison d’etre, even if it does sorta nick the guitar riff from Uncle Tupelo’s “Graveyard Shift”. Speaking of the immortal Tupelo, TAKE IT, SOMEBODY has a stunner of a closer, a 5-minute acoustic lament that takes the whole ’86 midwest punk sound these fellas have been mining to new heights by offering up the best Jay Farrar song that Jay Farrar never wrote.
This past year, I realized there was a lot of stuff I was listening to that threatened to edge into “Dad Rock”, and nearly invested in a rocking chair and a “GET OFF MY LAWN” sign. The Modern Machines came along and kicked my ass up one side and down another, reminding me that every new band of kids with guitars isn’t necessarily interested in doing whiny emo garbage. Nope, TAKE IT, SOMEBODY is a wonderful disc, a fantastic shot of rock adrenaline from a band rippling with youthful energy and chops, the sort of disc that reminds us obsessives why we became so enthralled with this Devil’s Music in the first place.
“Flash Infatuation”
“You’re Getting Married” (you’ll have to right click and “save as” to use this)
“Cause I Do” (again, make with the right click and “save as”)
1. Finn’s Motel, ESCAPE VELOCITY
I’m not sure every year of music listening for me has had a thesis statement, but all of the best years have…and ESCAPE VELOCITY is 2006 boiled down into one 40-minute blast of angst, joy, anger, and thrills for me. I’m not sure of a whole lot, but I’m real damn sure that this is the best record I heard this year.
A little back story might be necessary here. Joe Thebeau basically is the guiding vision behind Finn’s Motel, being lead singer/songwriter/guitarist; he once fronted a St. Louis band called variously The Finns and The Finn Brothers, but that was back in younger, less-responsibility-filled days of a decade ago. I gather that Thebeau had basically put the rock dreams behind him for more socially-acceptable means of support. However, legendary punk band Prisonshake had relocated to St. Louis years back, and a few years ago they’d sort of recruited Thebeau as an adjunct guitarist. ‘Shake guitarist/Scat Records honcho Robert Griffin heard some demos of songs that Thebeau had been hobbying around on for a lark in his basement during the decade of his “retirement” from rock music, and the result was this record.
On first, second, and maybe even third blush, ESCAPE VELOCITY looks like some weird sci-fi concept album, with song titles like “Dramamine For Engine 3” and “On The Need For Repeatable Systems” and “Recent Linear Landscapes”. In actuality, that sci-fi sheen wears off really quickly; those expecting Futurama should search elsewhere. Instead, the whole concept of the disc centers around that familiar problem that hit me like it hits everyone (hopefully) someday: the reconciliation between getting old and not being all that willing to just fade away.
Every good concept album needs a good thesis, and so few of them tend to deliver one. Kudos to Thebeau for doing just that on ESCAPE VELOCITY’s second song, “Accelerate And Brake”boiling down the emotions that run through the record in a few succint lines. That song kicks off full of Superchunk-ish guitar sturm, but about a minute in, changes directions in a breathtaking, goosebumpy way, and Thebeau spits out:
“And this daydream is my only escape
From the same thing, caffeine, gasoline, routine
Cylinders firing in boring order.”
The song finishes with an outro that will be all-too-familiar to those of us required to go to work each day in dress shirts and ties and looking like a corporate factory coughs us out:
“I think I caught your eye for a second
You were looking this way
No, I don’t always look this way
It’s who I have to be
For the Man, for the money
If I could find another way…”
The entire record is fueled by such sentiment (the four song cycle from “The Physics Of Drunk Driving” through “Concord Village Optimist Club” is one of the most emotionally stirring 12 minutes in the last few years), but that is hardly its only virtue. Enlisting pop maestro Adam Schmitt for some studio help (and no doubt egged on by Griffin) ESCAPE VELOCITY teems with genius rock flourishes. There’s the stereo ping-ponging guitars that open “Concord Village”, or the shouted “Hey!” in that song’s final coda. There’s the multi-tracked vocal on the word “accelerate” that shoots “Drunk Driving” into the stratosphere as it builds and builds. There’s the acoustic, bluesy finish to “Accelerate And Brake” that wouldn’t sound outta place on a vintage GnR record. There’s the tinny vocal sound on the gorgeous “Hangover In An Aging Suburb” (if you can hear Thebeau sing about longing for rockets launching in Florida or “dreams of California where the summer has no end” and not be moved, I don’t want to know you.) The thing of it is, everyone associated with this record is every bit the music geek that we are, and they’ve listened to decades and decades of rock and roll, and obsessed over piles and piles of records. ESCAPE VELOCITY is jammed full of brilliant little details copped from a wide variety of influences without ever being wholly under the thumb of those previous sounds.
All of which equals a ten-years-in-the-making craftsmanship you can admire from within as a music obsessive; this disc is fantastically interesting to listen to, and richly rewards repeat listening. Or, take it from without; in the latter case you’ll know you’re hearing a great, great disc, without being able to pin down specifically why it is so wonderful (beyond Thebeau’s memorable lyric turns.) In any event, ESCAPE VELOCITY is the disc that moved me the most, got me through any lingering midlife crisis of getting old, reaffirmed that yeah, age is just a number and not a prison sentence if you’re willing to let it be so.
The Finn’s Motel Website Click the “Media” hotlink and you can hear this remarkable record in it’s entirety. (You gotta at least give that run from “Physics Of Drunk Driving” through “Concord” a shot. Also, the sort-of closer “Equilibrium” is a stunner. And the opening track, “Dramamine” into “Accelerate And Brake”….hell, just buy it, and thank me later.)
2006 Top 20 list….
I s’pose it’s that time again, huh?
To preface my list, which is gonna be 20-records long again, (and about which I’m going to blather on and on about way too much for anyone’s conceivable interest) I should mention that I turned 40 this year. No biggie or nothin’, but going over the hill absolutely colored in one way or another the choices for my favorite discs of 2006.
I should also mention, as always, that there are a lot of great, utterly fantastic records that won’t make my list this year. No patch on those records or the artists who recorded them, but this is my list, of stuff that I liked the most and thought was the best. If you want more indie, less indie, or somewhere inbetween, find another list…and stay off my lawn!
(All song samples are full length, unless otherwise noted!)
20. The Exploding Hearts, SHATTERED
You cannot read a single article about the Hearts from after July, 2003 in which their tragic, horrific demise isn’t discussed, and as such a record that collects their early singles, studio outtakes from their one proper album (2003’s GUITAR ROMANTIC), and alternate versions would almost seem to promise either ghoulish thrills or cheap, overwrought nostalgia.
That it manages instead to affirm the incandescent brilliance of this band of beyond-their-years 20-year-olds from Portland–and that it manages to do so while making it easy to forget the tragic circumstances that surround it’s release–is a testament to what a special, magical group these fellows really were. Kicking off with the vaguely Clashlike ska of the title track, and then continuing through the early releases like “So Bored”, the anthemic “(Making) Teenage Faces”, and the silly, sublime “Sniffin’ Glue”, the Hearts simply deliver one manic pop thrill after another. It is as though Damien O’Neill, Feargal Sharkey, and Joe Strummer got together in 1978 and recorded a full album and sent it to these boys in the Northwest to release 25 years later.
Only the latter section of the album, consisting of alternate versions of songs that ended up on GUITAR ROMANTIC falls a little flat; the versions on the 2003 album are much better. (And if you still don’t own a copy of that and profess to like rock and roll at all, believe me when I say that you are missing one of the most essential records of the last 5 years from your collection. Rectify that.) Still, this is a nifty collection of stuff that collector scum were making way too much money from on Ebay…and this is it. This is everything there is “in the vaults”, and somehow I sorta wish these guys had been given the opportunity to fade away, rather than burn out.
“Shattered (You Left Me)”
“(Making) Teenage Faces”
“We Don’t Have To Worry Anymore” (Clip)
19. The Bellrays, HAVE A LITTLE FAITH
I tell you what: I’ll keep blathering on and on about how dope The Bellrays are, and eventually you gotta promise me you’ll buy one of their discs or go see ’em live or something…because that’s all it takes to convert to this church. The hook here is way too obvious, but it’ll do: “imagine Tina Turner fronting The Stooges”. Lead singer Lisa Kekaula is a soul shouter with the Aretha Franklin vocal chops to take up against any wannabe new-soul princess you wanna bring to the fight.
The cool thing about the new Bellrays disc is that they’re starting to get that as a band they’re ten times better when they’re playing soulful takes on hard rock rather than the other way ’round. While it’s cool to hear guitarist Tony Fate rip out blazing hard rock riffs, it’s even cooler to hear him harness that to a killer groove and a solid funk/soul skeleton. Thus, tunes like “Tell The Lie” and “Everyday I Think Of You” have an amazing yin-yang of garage rock loudness and Memphis soul stew working for the band in ways they never have before. And then there’s “Third Time’s The Charm”, with it’s chugging horns that re-casts the band as Tina Turner backed up by a hard-rocking MG’s and the Mar-Keys. The Bell Rays have the chops, the look, and the live show to make them superstars. They just need a parcel of good songs and they’ll arrive. “Tell The Lie” and “Third Time” are absolutely a step in the right direction.
“Tell The Lie”
“Third Time’s The Charm” (sorta lower fi)
“Tell The Lie”, live on the Craig Ferguson show.
18. The Raconteurs, BROKEN BOY SOLDIERS
Making my year-end list history by being the first record I’ve ever mentioned in a “most anticipated” thread the year before to actually end up in my year-end list the following year. It’s unclear to me whether Jack White needed Brendan Benson more than Benson needed White, but I think it’s the former rather than the latter. Although the last two White Stripes discs were interesting, they were interesting failures. Teamed with a song craftsman and studio wonk like Benson, White rises to the occasion with some inspired playing and singing that allow him to indulge his art-rock tendencies without totally selling out his White Stripes image. Benson, meanwhile, given a chance to break loose from the sometimes-too-considered meticulousness of his work, gets to rock out a little more than usual. The results are hit-and-miss, but when they hit, (“Steady As She Goes”, “Intimate Secretary”, “Together” and “Yellow Sun”) they make music that exceeds the sum of what either prodigiously talented performer brings to the table individually.
17. Yo La Tengo, I Am Not Afraid Of You And I Will Beat Your Ass. I will happily confess that I was about as hyped for this Yo La Tengo disc as I’d be for a root canal. There was a time once where I loved Yo La Tengo and everything they stood for. A song like “Autumn Sweater” or an entire album like FAKEBOOK or ELECTROPURA made my heart glad with a kind of joy that few bands before or since could match. Somewhere around 1998, I separated from these folks though. They wanted to do explore experimental, artier sonic landscapes…and I wanted them to write good songs and play and sing them with heart.
So imagine my surprise when I put this hilarious-titled disc on for the first time and “Pass The Hatchet, I Think I’m Goodkind” came roaring out of the speakers. Ten-plus minutes of roaring, noisy, raucous rock and roll to start an album off? Holy crap! It’s like “From A Motel 6” all over again! That the band followed that up with the sublimely catchy and charming “Beanbag Chair” and then Georgia’s lovely “I Feel Like Going Home” which gave way to the awesome fake-soul of “Mr. Tough”….yeah, suddenly this felt like the disc I’d been waiting nearly 8 years for these folks to get around to making.
Picking a favorite song here is tough, but I think my favorites are “Going Home” and “Black Flowers”, both of which capture the heart and songwriting prowess Yo La possess when they have a mind to do something with them. I probably docked this disc about 5 places because I’m not sure whether my love for it is colored by how disappointed I’ve been in the last 3 or 4 YLT discs.
“Feel Like Going Home”
“Black Flowers”
“Beanbag Chair”
16. Califone, ROOTS & CROWNS
Is there a more sonically interesting and aurally pleasing band out there than Califone? Taking disparate elements like folk, blues, and Appalachian stomp and wedding it all to loopy electronica, squiggling percussion, squalling feedback, and then bringing main man Tim Rutilli’s smokey, earnest, down-home vocals to top it all off is an amazing combination, one which Califone routinely exploits to great results.
The best jumping-off point for beginners new to the strange and beautiful world of Califone to hook in is to think of the oddest, most-jarring of Wilco songs, and then imagine them arranged just a little better than that and sung by a guy who’s voice sounds like good bourbon tastes. Such imagination leads you to the skronking rock of “A Chinese Actor”, or the nearly danceable “Pink And Sour” or the gorgeous “The Orchids”. Califone are a national treasure, making a kind of American Folk Music that no one’s ever made before.
“The Orchids”
“A Chinese Actor”
“Pink And Sour”
15. Jarvis Cocker, JARVIS
Let’s get one thing out of the way on this right from the start. Jarvis Cocker’s first proper solo album isn’t as good as any of his best work fronting Pulp. I should also mention that Mount McKinley isn’t as tall as Everest either…but it’s still pretty freaking tall.
In other words, JARVIS is just a dandy record on it’s own merits, even if it doesn’t quite hit the heights that Pulp hit on DIFFERENT CLASS and WE LOVE LIFE. Every review is going to point this out, sadly, but it doesn’t mean that Mr. Cocker has lost his sense of bravado, daring, or lyrical insightfulness…or his way with a stunning melody. Take “Black Magic”, for instance. Here’s a song that opens up by hitting you over the head with just how blatantly it rips off “Crimson And Clover”, and you’re thinking that Jarvo has gone off into a Noel Gallagheresque land of unwittingly nicking others…and then the goofy “ah ah ah ah ah ah” backing vocals come in on the chorus, and you realize that Jarvis meant to rip the song off, and he’s as in on the joke as the listener is. “A to I”, “Heavy Weather”, “I Will Kill Again”, and the wonderful “Fat Children” prove that if Jarvo is not quite up to his best work, he’s damn close and narrowing that gap. The hilarious “hidden” track at the end of the record, “Cunts Are Still Running The World” (sample line “You say that cream rises to the top/Well I say shit floats”) marries a gorgeous melody and an over the top delivery to the first overtly political statement I can really remember Jarvo making…I mean yeah, he’s always been a class warrior, but this…and it works!
“Cunts Are Still Running The World”
“Black Magic”
14. Ugly Duckling, BANG FOR THE BUCK
Ugly Duckling are not brilliant musicians able to wed a groove to social statment like The Roots. They do not have the “Hey! We’re coke dealers!” danger chic of Clipse. UD are three very, very dorky dudes from Long Beach who get slotted in with folks like Pharcyde, Jurassic 5, and others, hip-hop artists who pay homage to the “old school”. Unlike many of their peers, UD’s angle seems unable to acknowledge that the last 15 years actually happened, so BANG FOR THE BUCK comes off as one of the few records in recent memory that can sit alongside THREE FEET HIGH AND RISING and the first Digital Underground record and not sound fraudulent.
Duckling has never been about huge depth. Their previous album was a concept record about working fast food jobs. BANG FOR THE BUCK doesn’t have a unifying concept, just song after song of the boys giving up the history of…well, themselves, along with some hilarious battle raps. What makes it all work is the sense of humor and fun present throughout…and also DJ Young Einstein’s incredible work on the turntables, which is utterly unassailable. UD have taken a lot of shit in the hip hop community for staying outside the topical and keeping the lyrical concerns lighter, but this time around, they get a seal of approval from critical darlings People Under The Stairs on “Shoot Your Shot”, and then go straight from that to the most socially-aware song they’ve ever tried, “The End Of Time” (which just so happens to be the best song on the disc.)
13. The Minders, IT’S A BRIGHT AND GUILTY WORLD
The Minders put out a great debut album back in 1998, and then a series of sub-standard followups that, combined with main Minder Martyn Leaper losing the rest of his band to Steve Malkmus seemed to consign this act to oblivion. The Minders were always the Elephant 6 band for folks who hated The Elephant 6 (E6 being the erstwhile recording home for folks like The Apples In Stereo, Neutral Milk Hotel, and the Olivia Tremor Control…as well as a bunch of far lesser lights.) While most of his labelmates understood how to sound the notes and sing the right phrasing, Leaper always stood apart from them by having an innate songwriting acumen that lifted him above the competition. Unfortunately, it seemed as if he blew that wad on the Minders early singles and debut offering.
And then came this disc. Armed with an album’s worth of fantastic songs and ideas, Leaper has maybe the best record of his career on his hands; GUILTY WORLD is most certainly the best pure classicist pop record to come out in recent memory. Aided and abetted by longtime friend (and onetime Minder), Apples In Stereo svengali Robert Schmidt, Leaper rises to the occasion with the raucous opening tracks “Don’t You Stop”, “Red Admirals (Gonna Pass Me)”, and “Accidental Joy”. Leaper also shows off some range with the lovely “Savour All The Days”, the terrific cover of a deserves-to-be-heard Regia song “Same Time, Same Place”, and a postpunk winder in “357”. Welcome back, folks.
“Don’t You Stop”
“Accidental Joy”
“Savour All The Days”
The Minders Myspace site where you can hear “357” and “Same Time, Same Place”
12. Cheap Trick, ROCKFORD
It is a cruel trick the mind plays on Cheap Trick fans. For nearly 25 years, we’ve heard a never-ending litany preceding each new release along the lines of “THIS record is as good as the early stuff…” Sadly, that hype has never been true. Even on their ’96 “comeback” attempt, and their 2003 second try at relevancy, the hype only went so far, and after some initial excitement you realized that nothing on those two records could ever stand shoulder to shoulder with “He’s A Whore”, “Southern Girls”, or “Downed”.
And so the same pre-release hype started circulating before the release of ROCKFORD, and this time I decided I was gonna be immune to it. That feeling lasted me through the first song, the pedestrian “Welcome To The World”, and the second, over-produced number “Perfect Stranger”.
And then it happens. Cheap Trick flick out a steady stream of instant classics that finally, happily, inexplicably really, really, DO stand up to their best work from nearly a quarter-century ago. “If It Takes A Lifetime” could easily settle into IN COLOR, while the fiery, Albini-produced “Come On Come On Come On” can stand right alongside “He’s A Whore”. The fragile beauty of “O Clair” (an answer to their own “Eau Claire”?) hits next, before more should-be FM radio hits like “Give It Away” and my own personal favorite “Every Night And Every Day” come splashing back in.
ROCKFORD represent a stunning return to form by The Trick. Part of me hopes that this is the first in a string of latter-day wonderful Cheap Trick albums…but part of me also hopes that this is the swan song, finally after 25 years allowing the boys to bow out on their own terms.
“If It Takes A Lifetime” (clip)
“Come On, Come On, Come On” (clip)
“O Clair” (clip)
11. The Figgs, FOLLOW JEAN THROUGH THE SEA
This record is bumped ahead about 8 places to do penance for maybe the greatest oversight I’ve ever made on a year-end music list. I’d always known about the Figgs, and even have a couple of their early releases…but those discs never really hit me right. Until this summer, the last I’d heard of them they were pulling dual duty as UK legend Graham Parker’s and at different times ex-Replacement Tommy Stinson’ backing bands.
Then my buddy Rob suggested we do some themed mix CD’s over the summer, and the first one we tried was, oddly, centered around a theme of “murder”. Perusing some tunes, I stumbled upon a Figgs song called “Kill Me Now”, and after about a dozen listens I was convinced it was one of the better rock songs I’ve heard in a while. Turns out that song is from a 2004 double album that The Figgs recorded and released on their own, and it turns out that if I could re-write my entire 2004 list, I’d have to figure out a way to slot that album, PALAIS, into the top 3 for the year.
Which brings us to FOLLOW JEAN THROUGH THE SEA. Only one disc this time out, and it all clocks in at a brisk half-hour. While the whole enterprise isn’t quite as good as PALAIS, there are individual moments that surpass it. The most noticeable thing here is that despite backing Graham Parker, The Figgs are most adept at channeling the sound of the first Joe Jackson Band album–and a much cooler influence I’d struggle to name. “Don’t Hurt Me Again” sounds like the best song Jackson never wrote, while the album-opening “Breaking Through These Gates” offers a terrific driving garage-rock opener.
But none of those songs can prepare you for “Jumping Again” which might be one of the best 3 or 4 songs to see release this year. Sounding like vintage mid-1980’s Replacements with the aforementioned Mr. Jackson belting out his best vocal, it stands as a brilliant spot to anchor the remainder of the record on, and lifts songs like “Chasing After Words” to higher highs than they might have otherwise occupied standing alone.
“Don’t Hurt Me Again”
“Breaking Through These Gates”
The Figgs Myspace site, where you HAVE to give a listen to “Jumping Again” and “Chasing After Words” and where I also recommend you take a listen to the two songs from PALAIS they have up, especially “I Brought Kicks” so there.
Permalink Comments Off on 2006 Top 20 list….
Popnarcotic 