Wednesday, February 4, 2009

finding it easier to laugh out loud: 801-825



801. "loser"
beck

this is that wild, wacky, woolly moment post-grunge, pre-"post-grunge" in mainstream popular rock music when a slack-jawed, slack-eyed, red-eyed transient troubadour influenced equally by mississippi john hurt and chuck d could crack the billboard top 10 with a self-deprecating ode to post-modern malaise. musical intertextuality, people. this is psych-folk-"stoner"-rap, when "alternative" signified something more than "pearl jam sound-alike." beck went on to greener, brighter, hipper pastures, but all the elements that made mr. hansen a vital figure (for a decade or so) are here. check the grab-bag musicality (props to the son house-d slide guitar grinding with shankar sitars) and impressionistic, "ironic" lyrics culled from the vast wasteland of american popular culture fighting in the back seat while beck's own incomparable nonchalant, detached charisma threatens to turn the whole damn car around.

beck - loser

802. "all i have to do is dream"
the everly brothers

this is "dream-pop" when elizabeth fraser was just a gleam in her daddy's eye. if the soft chiming guitar reverb doesn't melt your heart, don and phil's harmonies will. gee whiz! longing, fragility and hopelessness like this shouldn't belong in a number one POP SMASH. this tracks excels due its simplicity; there are no weepy strings nor a crassly brassed out bridge. no, it's just two good ol' country boys pining for a long lost love found only during REM sleep. i wonder if they were lucid dreamers?

the everly brothers - all i have to do is dream

803. "ghost town"
the specials

the early 80s thatcherite united kingdom must have been a ridiculously unpleasant place to live, but it certainly inspired buckets of amazing music. this is the spooky, spacey soundtrack to unemployment, riots and throngs of pissed-off, disillusioned individuals. too much fighting, not enough work. too much starving, not enough dancing. the "yah-yah-yahs" during the chorus sound like rabid cats, the horns sound like laughing spirits and the whole thing sounds like it was recorded six feet under in a well, abandoned bunker or grave. the upbeat, exuberant, nostalgia-fueled bridge adds a nice contrast to the dirge-y dread of the rest of the track. this is music for lost souls and pissed-upon dreams.

the specials - ghost town

804. "over and over"
hot chip

whatever. i don't care about any of your noisy punk or punky noise shit or your sprawling, proggy multi-tracked guitar-based indie rock or your bearded folk. i just want to cavort and gambol (yes!) maniacally, drunkenly and embarrassingly around the room to "dance" music made by and for nerdy, self-aware white dudes. the mantras are undeniably clever: "like a monkey with a miniature cymbal," "the smell of repetition really is on you," "k-i-s-s-i-n-g s-e-x-i-n-g c-a-s-i-o p-o-k-e y-o-u m-e i." hell yeah. hell you. 'ell you. tell you. the cowbells and handclaps are relentless, the synths soar and percolate and then there's that fuzzed-out bass (or maybe a detuned guitar?) underneath it all keeping the party going for hours. fuck your uptight posturing; dance, motherfuckers, dance.

hot chip - over and over

805. "shop around"
the miracles

MAMA: stay away from whores and boozy floozies and trollops and tarts.
SMOKEY: but ma, i'm gonna be a singer.
MAMA: with all your travelin', you's a 'bound to do some trampin', but don't marry before you find a good, decent woman.
SMOKEY: but, ma, mr. gordy here says i'm gonna be a big star. he says i'm gonna save his record label.
MAMA: jus' don't let any hack singers steal your songs, boy.
captain and tennille, david archuleta, YOU DISAPPOINTED MAMA. for shame; go jump off a cliff, go drown in a river, go walk headlong into oncoming traffic. let's keep smokey's pure, smooth, honey-hammed voice sacred.

the miracles - shop around

806. "cheeseburger"
gang of four

hey there, american. how do you think the rest of the world perceives you? what or who do they associate with your culture and heritage? washington, lincoln, jefferson? twain, faulkner, hemingway? apple pie, baseball, hippie pussy? no: coke-a cola, lucky strikes and the golden, flashing, blinding arches. big food. fast food. cheeseburgers, cheeseburgers. the gang of the four sprightly lads from leeds are well regarded for their inflammatory political commentary and here jon king spews anti-capitalist rhetoric like a resurrected eugene v. debs. andy gill's guitar grins at you with melodic distortion. how could one band be so arty, politically engaged and musically brutal yet remain entirely accessible?

gang of four - cheeseburger

807. "walk on"
neil young

why didn't cantankerous ol' shakey want people to hear on the beach? it's one of his best and it opens with this tribute to being a cynical, bitter, detached individual. they may be talking shit, they may hate your guts, no one may like you, but fuck 'em, walk on. "walk on" isn't a messy, jammy affair like most of the rest of album. instead, it's a springy, jaunty, little zip of a tune with a typically youngian harmonic chorus and sputter-stop, chimey guitar. the man could squeeze so much emotion out of so few notes with such little technical ability. no wonder he influenced lydon and cobain, et al, et cetera, etouffee.

neil young - walk on

808. "cause = time"
broken social scene

shoulda been a hip-hop song at this position. damnit, stephen, ya fucked up your own list, how do you expect to succeed in life? are you the cause of your own demise? be the cause. FUCK the cause. this is why broken social scene are one of the few "indie rock" bands that matter, that ooze relevance and reliability. tight, compacted verses with big ol' guitar hero instrumental break-downs. gradual build-up, orgasmic release. this is the sound of a congregation of dudes who know how/what/where/why to play. incendiary.

broken social scene - cause = time

809. "where did our love go?"
the supremes
1964
gold

holland-dozier-holland. ross-wilson-ballard. the funk brothers. could this holy motown triumvirate ever hit a sour, dour note? the supremes' first big hit. handclaps and footstomps. bells and chimes. saxophone break. heartbreak. woe and worry and loneliness. teenage love gained and teenage love lost. "burning, burning, yearning." hear how diana coos and pleas and begs you to stay, you heartless, cruel bastard of a jerk. how could anyone resist? fuck you, beatles. the supremes were the best pop band of the '60s.

the supremes - where did our love go?

810. "we've been had"
the walkmen

saturn ion commericial; but what is this emotive, straining dylan wanna-be-like and this tinkly, rinky-dink toy piano? and what the fuck are these poignant, clever lyrics? life is full of let-downs, disappointments, hurt, pain and desolation. the american dream? "one day you'll change things for the better, boy. you'll be rich, the girls will be clamoring for your cock and the world is your oyster, go grab a bib." then you wake up, you're in your mid-twenties, fat, balding, friendless, jobless, as insecure and self-pitying as ever and you haven't gotten laid in six months. it's all lies, it's all jargon. we've been had. here you have it, third official SHOULD BE HIGHER designation from the listmaker.

the walkmen - we've been had

811. "picture book"
the kinks

ray davies, you rascal, "a picture of you in your birthday suit." he's a sentimentalist at heart, obsessed with all things lost, forgotten and tossed away into the trash heap of memory and the passage of time. he could also write one hell of a pop song. listen to the interaction between the winding bassline and twisting guitar riff - consider yourself warned, green day. backing vocals, "scooby-dooby doo." debate how "selling out" threatens artistic integrity as much as self-righteousness dictates, but at least a semi-obscure kinks track is ingrained into the public consciousness due to a HP commercial. (THANKS KATRINA!!!!!!!!1111)

the kinks - picture book

812. "bees"
animal collective
2005
feels

it may sound like a repetitive, spaced-out harp-laden ambient track that lulls, lurches and levitates into oblivion. avey tare may sound like a caterwauling derelict. the vocal effects may seem misguided or laughable. but. But. BUT. after smoking a bowl. during the appropriate post-coital moment. "the bees, the bees, (lower) the bees, (lower) the bees, (incomprehensible muttering)" is the voice of god, of love, of understanding, of harmony, of unity with nature and the universe. i never bought into the the twin maxims that drugs and sex make music better until feels. thanks for altering my perspective, ac.

animal collective - bees

813. "chapel of love"
the dixie cups

yay monogamy! yay marital bliss and domestic fulfillment! who came up with the band name? look at the other girl groups: shangri-la's, supremes, crystals. all sublimity, otherworldliness, purity. but, little paper receptacles in which kids spit and pee? c'mon. i mean, i know they're from louisiana, but, c'mon. "chapel of love" is more bluesy and swingy and jazzy than most contemporary girl-group tracks because 1) the girls were from naw owlins and 2) spector the rector wasn't heavily involved. but why'd ya have to go and ruin all our fun, bette?

the dixie cups - chapel of love

814. "fox on the run"
sweet

all those flashy, trashy, seventies-obsessed "hipster" girls into blow, blowjobs and blow-drying must love this song. it's raucous, it's rowdy and it has an IQ of 80. but the hooks come faster than a frightened virgin. the bra is stuffed with squealing synths and big, crunchy, overdubbed glam guitars. peel off the panties and that explosive, ten miles high chorus slaps you across the jaw. this could make a mennonite buy into the decadent vaingloriousness of the rock and roll lifestyle.

sweet - fox on the run

815. "5 years"
bjork

artists as singular, as defiantly idiosyncratic and as unabashedly non compos mentis as bjork guomundsdottir are as rare as the steaks at applebee's. homogenic is her crowning achievement - a daunting juxtaposition of the organic and the synthetic. "5 years" waits patiently at the midpoint, playing a gameboy and ranting to itself about defective lovers and inept boyfriends. those hyper-digitized drums sound like something out of richard d. james' wet dreams. when bjork starts taunting and growling about cowards and the strings sweep in like the angel of death, the track achieves immortality in your memory.

bjork - 5 years

816. "rock & roll woman"
buffalo springfield
1967
again

here's some more mom-rock for ya. this is indeed the first collaboration between stephen stills and david crosby. this is indeed indicative of an enviable, intuitive grasp of song craft and melody. this is indeed full of pleasant harmonies and reverb-ed guitar. this is indeed unfortunately lacking any contribution from neil young. this is indeed an example of that blurry space between folk-rock and psychedelia. this is indeed why buffalo springfield were one of the best bands of their time. rest in peace, dewey martin.

buffalo springfield - rock & roll woman

817. "4"
aphex twin

why is it always the opening track that grabs and bags me the most effectively? it's time for a misty-eyed recollection: i was sixteen and had bought richard d. james on the recommendation of the rough guide to rock music. i popped the CD into my walkman and "4" proceeded to rip my feeble young mind apart. it sounded like metroid battling a hydraulic ram; aliens and industry, fantasy and labor. no one complicates the utopian promises of digitally-created music with such jarring, apocalyptic, dystopian sounds.

aphex twin - 4

818. "rise"
public image ltd.

hey, thanks, rules of attraction. even if he's a bombastic, overwrought, attention-whoring twat of a human being, john lydon remains an unmistakably compelling frontman and persona. that nagging, penetrative yowl may be buried underneath the murk of those enormous, shea stadium drums and steve vai's soaring guitars, but it's still as confrontational and demanding as always. even if he was attempting to "sell out" to gain mass appeal here, lydon was always too bizarre and too disorienting (check the self-contradicting lyrics about racial differences) to win the public's affection. steve vai? really?

public image ltd. - rise

819. "you ain't goin' nowhere"
the byrds

i don't know, man. it took a lot of balls for such a popular, successful band to make such a drastic aesthetic shift. folksy whimsy to psychy whimsy to country whimsy. ooo-whee! it helps that they chose such a delightful dylan tune to kick off sweetheart of the rodeo. makes the pill easier to swallow, makes the hide easier to skin, makes the bed easier to wet. ooo-whee! dig those steel pedals, cowboy. and the clippity-cloppity drumming, pardner. genghis khan, what are you doing here, ya wacky barbarous heathen monster. ooo-whee!

the byrds - you ain't goin' nowhere

820. "michael a. grammar"
broadcast

yeah, so i like music that sounds like video games. i grew up on rpgs and superscopes and extra mario mushrooms, what do you expect? is this an anti-dance song? "i hate that my feet are dancing so much." michael musta got trish all worked up and hot n' bothered and snot n' smothered. this track works because of the underlying current of dread and resignation. shiny happy synths wash out all the darkness and discomfort. let go!

michael a. grammar - broadcast

821. "negativland"
neu!
1972
neu!

it opens with a jackhammer. it's going to be noisy, it's going to be abrasive and it ain't gonna be a fun ride. but, michael rother's throbbing, pulsating, lub-dub lub-dub bass? and, a little somethin' somethin' called the "motorik" rhythm, courtesy the one and only klaus dinger? as white noise sweeps back and forth between your left and right headphones, that nasty rhythm section keeps on putting and puttering, goofing and golfing. and then, it stops. butthenit comes back, twice as fast and you brain goes wacko jacko attempting to keep up. kraut-rock, pshaw, scrimshaw. this is post-mechanical post-industrial post-rock before "industrial" even thought to exist as a genre.

neu! - negativland

822. "birthday"
junior boys

JUNIOR BOYS: hey, instead of emphasizing the upbeat, jolly-roger drugssexrockn'roll side of dance music, let's be sad-sacks.

and it works. this track is about having your loved one miss your birthday. does it get any more pathetic? the synths are spooky and sparse, the bass is mechanical and off-putting and the drums sound like they've had a few. this is dance music for people who are too depressed to get up and prance and prattle around like the rest of the unruly, godforsaken dirty leviathan of a crowd.

junior boys - birthday

823. "follow the leader"
eric b. and rakim

eric b. goes nutty with the production here with wet, sloppy, frothy bass, copious ghost story synth strings and chase scene sax breaks. it's sinister and unsettling and speaker-rattling and head-splitting. rakim, rakim, rakim. are you the best rapper of all time? maybe. maybe. no one before or since has been as smooth and smug and smart. you drop one-liners like breadcrumbs and your metaphors are ridiculously, brilliantly simple. "the tempo's a trail/the stage is a cage/the mic is a third rail." you smarmy bastard.

eric b. & rakim - follow the leader

824. "bunk trunk skunk"
be your own pet

it may be all bluster and braggadocio and bullying, but is not a refreshing blast of retarded punk fury floating in a sea of plodding, prodding indie-rock? does it not make you wistful for long-lost, carefree youthful arrogance and flippant rebellion? nah? just breathe in and let jemina pearl scream into your earlobe and then maybe you'll get it. it may only have three chords and three brain cells, but it's impossible to ignore the opening line: i'm an independent motherfucker!

be your own pet - bunk trunk skunk

825. "fight test"
the flaming lips

cat stevens, kenny rogers, dumb "inspiring" lyrics, big dumb stageshow, overrated over-hyped band. but. enormous poignant singalong chorus, solid instrumentation and, uh, enormous poignant singalong chorus. i mean, objectively, the lips are a great band, but i've always been perturbed and disturbed, frightened and uptightened by their unabashed whimsy and sugary frivolity. this is undeniably an excellent track, though, because...ENORMOUS POIGNANT SINGALONG CHORUS.

the flaming lips - fight test
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