Since I’m home with a sick pup whose recovery plan includes sleeping on my lap in as unbroken a stretch as possible (bathroom breaks and beverage refills be DAMNED!), thought I’d capitalize on the stasis to throw out some songs that got caught in my snatches since last time. First, in honor of his beloved Toronto Raptors beating the broken down Warriors to win their first NBA title, superfan Drake dropped a couple new tracks last week, the best of which finds him teaming with Rick Ross again on the thumping “Money in the Grave.” Drake’s been prolific yet sporadic the past few years, dropping albums and mixtapes on the regular, which unfortunately are mostly mediocre in quality, minus a few choice hits. Same principle applies here — “Omerta” is a throwaway, but “Money” lives up to its name, particularly when the big man shows up. Give it a ride here:
Next, in honor of his upcoming performance at Glastonbury, former Oasis frontman Liam Gallagher dropped a new single from his forthcoming follow-on to As You Were ( a debut that landed at #11 in last year’s rundown here). Thankfully we didn’t have to travel to the festival to hear it (the thought of camping out at a farm with 100,000 people sweltering in 100 degree heat sounds about as much fun as doing hot yoga naked in front of your entire family). Sonically it’s in line with the songs found on his debut (and not far from those of his former band) — solid guitar riff, ominous bass line, and sturdy rhythm all chugging alongside Gallagher’s ever-stellar voice as it soars into the chorus. (“I’ve been waaaaaiiting so looooooong for you dooooooooown by the rivaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah…”) It’s a strong song — let’s hope the rest of the album continues the trend when it arrives. Give “The River (Why Me? Why Not)” a listen in the interim:
Up third is the return of the one thing I (for one) have been most craving lately, with the string of underwhelming releases from beloved bands (the National, Silversuns, Foals, Vampire Weekend, Raconteurs, etc etc etc) — a balls out, unabashed rocker intent on delivering a much-needed kick to the ass of anyone it meets. No synthesizers, no gimmicky schtick (“Now with LADIES!”), just guitars, energy, and attitude. And who better to deliver than the notoriously riotous Swedes? That’s right, the superficially staid and polite purveyors of crisp, clean interior design elements and small, sauced spheres of meat are also home to one of the most raucous, entertaining bands of the last 20 years — Howling Pelle Almqvist and his gang of garage rocking rebels in the Hives. They’re back just in the nick of time, too, with one hell of little ripper. It’s the back (front?) half of the “double A-side” release this week (classic Hives swagger there — “we don’t do B-sides — everything we do is an A!”) and the better of the two by far, hearkening back to their glory days of Veni Vidi Vicious and Tyrannosaurus Hives. Howlin’ Pelle may say he’s “not the answer to your problems,” but you sure could fool me — if more of this is in store we just might have found the antidote we so desperately need.
Last up is a new discovery, one I stumbled on in my endless hunt through blogs and new release piles to find something to get excited about (see the aforementioned malaise from established acts and the unspoken dearth of good tunes from newbies (despite their rabid fanbases and elevated chart positions)). The name and cover were enough to draw me in and the music was good enough to keep me — a mix of Sergio Leone style guitar riffs and Al Green style soul from two dudes down in Austin. Said gentlemen are producer Adrian Quesada and singer/songwriter Eric Burton who linked up last year and recorded their debut after a run of well-received live performances deep in the heart of Texas. It’s a really solid affair — laid back vibes riding along on the back of Burton’s silky voice with riffs that would sound at home in any retro rap song (or those Leone westerns). It’s perfect for a lazy Sunday — give “Fire” a ride here:
We’ll close with a couple readers to round things out — first, this one from Pitchfork on Neutral Milk Hotel’s debut album, On Avery Island. The follow-on is the one that garners all the praise and is described as a modern classic (rightfully so), but this makes a compelling case for the debut. Worth a read and revisit.
Next comes an interview in Entertainment Weekly with Black Keys frontman Dan Auerbach on the long-awaited return of that band this week and the inspirations behind the new album. There’s some interesting inclusions in there — Vice Principals, as well as the Stooges and ZZ Top — that are worth checking out. We’ll see how the new album goes down and whether those are notable influences or not (early returns are ok — album sounds good, if not the barn-burning return I so desire (or is indicated might be forthcoming based on the title)).
Last comes a Stereogum interview with Spoon frontman Britt Daniel where he talks through some of the band’s biggest hits in anticipation of their upcoming greatest hits album. (A phrase they, like me, likely never thought they’d hear anyone say.) It’s an interesting retrospective — the album goes all the way back to Girls Can Tell (probably still my favorite album of theirs), covering everything in between (but not their first two) — and hits a lot of the high notes. (I still might need to do a “One You Should Know” post/playlist for em soon because there’s a lot that’s left out…) It includes one new song, too, the track “No Bullets Spent,” which is a good cut — give it a listen here while you wait for that “OYSK:”
It’s been a hectic couple of weeks, hence the longer than usual (at least of late) delay from yours truly. There’s been playoff runs in hockey and regular season baseball to watch, houses to inspect, things to paint, beer to brew, and jobs to investigate (cuz I gots ta get the f####################k outta here — ASAP (call me!)) all while continuing to work 50-60 hours a week in my totally rewarding (and not at all spirit demolishing) day job with Tio Samuel. I’ve been keeping a tab on things flying out of the speakers, though, so wanted to pop in to share. Since time’s short (gotta get back to that job hunt, son!) it feels appropriate to revive another fan favorite (the mail/tweets from the three of you have been overwhelming) and hold another round of Sunshine Speed Dating. So without further ado….here we go!
DING! “Hi! What’s your name? Borild? How do you say that? Borild. Borild. Is that right? It sounds like you’re saying “bored” — are you bored? We’ve only been talking for seven seconds! Seven seconds too long you say? Ha ha — you’re funny…. (trails off, stares at his loafers)” First up meet the pop punk Beachheads, a four-way from Norway that apparently spawned out of the “black metal party band Kvelertak,” according to AllMusic (which is as intriguing a label as I’ve heard in a while). Thankfully they play to the lighter side of those genres, harnessing the energy of their punk side while keeping the mood bright (sonically, at least — the lyrics on the lead single from their upcoming album are about the rise of fascism so……) They’ve got some pretty catchy stuff — that lead single’s a good jumping off spot. Check out “Death of a Nation” here:
Next! “Hey — good to see you again! What’s with the cherry red sex suit and cowboy hat? Oh you’re getting over a divorce and struggling to deal with the trappings of fame? That’s what your latest album is about, too? That sounds heavy — but where exactly does the outfit play into that? Just working some things out, huh? Well — I feel for ya. I saw you guys live a few years back and you were one of the best shows of the festival. You were performing in a sundress that time, though, so doesn’t seem like the divorce had much to do with the questionable wardrobe choices. You do you, though — I just hope the leather breathes as much as that sundress. Just shout if you’re feeling lightheaded — good luck out there!” Back with their fifth studio album, the eclectic pack of Kentucky wildcats from Cage bring their usual wide-ranging mix of sounds to bear, this time throwing in some 80s and reggae elements to differing effect. It’s a mixed bag, but the lead single “Ready to Let Go” is a winner — give it a ride here:
Neeeeeeeeeeeext! “Hello there — where are you from? DUBLIN, eh? That’s lovely — Ireland’s a lovely country. I got married there! Yes, I know it’s weird for a married person to be at a speed dating event — how about you leave the judgment at the door there, pal? I don’t tell you what to do with your lucky charms, do I? Anyway — what do you do for a living (other than get all up in other people’s business)? Oh, you’re in a band, huh? That’s cool — what’s its name? Silverbacks? Isn’t that the shitty rock band that sang “How You Remind Me?” With the giant guy with the long, wavy blond hair singing? I thought they were from Canada… Are you SURE that’s not you? Sounds like I’m not the only one who might have some explaining to do, huh, pal?” Name similarity aside, I can confirm that this five piece is NOT from Canada and has never appeared on rock radio singing crappy songs like the aforementioned. Unfortunately, that’s about all I can tell you — the band is Irish, has three guitarists, and a grand total of nine songs on their Bandcamp page (1 EP and 4 singles). That’s about it — they’re all pretty solid, but my favorite is the single “Dunkirk,” whose jittery, sparse start builds to a satisfying release midway through. Give it a spin here:
Next up — “Oh hi there — you must be from Philly! How’d I guess? You mean other than the fact that you, like every other person I know from Philly, have at least three pieces of green and/or Eagles gear visible at all times AND mention it within thirty seconds of meeting someone? It must’ve been a lucky guess. I do love Philly, though — I’d slap my grandma for a pork sandwich from Dinic’s. You don’t have one on you, do you? Oh I just assumed you guys kept a couple spares in a cooler in your car, just in case you ever get stranded or need to barter once the zombie apocalypse hits. I do with beefs from Porti’s so…might want to give it some thought…” Spirit of the Beehive is another five piece with not a ton out there right now — looks like they’ve got two albums out, but not a ton of press. Their latest, Hypnic Jerks, is an interesting listen with some weird field recordings stitched between some psychedelic guitars. It loses steam for me over the duration, but there’s a couple good songs before it does, including the title track, which you can listen to here:
DOUBLE TROUBLE ROUND! “Why hello! Lemme guess — you’re from Philly, too, huh? Oh I dunno — must’ve been the elaborate hand slaps and chest bumps you just exchanged with the last group as they were leaving. That or all the shouting about ‘the fuckin’ Birds!’ It’s ok, I was just telling the last crew how much I like that town — hey, you don’t happen to have anything to eat in that cooler, do you? Something pork-based perhaps? Nah nevermind — you can keep the sandwich. Only a communist puts whiz on a steak and cheese and NO ONE thinks lettuce and tomato on a warm sandwich is a good idea. I like where you’re head’s at writ large, though — gotta be ready for dem zombies. Maybe THEY will think whiz and wilted lettuce are preferable to brains…” This latest batch of Philly fanatics are Hop Along and I stumbled on them at the end of the year as their latest, Bark Your Head Off, Dog, was on a few folks’ best of lists. It’s a pretty good listen, but what puts these guys over the top is lead singer Frances Quinlan’s voice — at times sweet and cooing, others raspy and roaring, it’s a powerful weapon that’s tough to ignore. Check out “How Simple” here (bonus track on Sunshine Radio is “The Fox in Motion”):
NEXT! ” Howdy howdy — oh don’t tell me, you’re from Philly too?!? Baltimore!? Well why the hell were you high fiving and hand jiving those guys?! Yeah I know it’s fun, but you hate the Eagles! So what if they’re both birds?! I don’t think you understand how this works… Anyway — I love B-mas, too, so guess I can see liking things from both places. Lex Mark is the jam — not as good as Reading, but the people watching more than makes up for the gap in food offerings. Just grab a sleeve of Berger’s cookies and watch the show! We were there one time when the band started playing Bruno Mars and it was like someone just reanimated the dead — some maaaaaaaaaaaangy lookin’ cats just started spasming in the courtyard and didn’t stop for 20 minutes. One lady was pole dancing with the column, another dude was provocatively dancing with a chain barrier, a tiny Asian lady with sunglasses on inside started freaking in place. Amazing. Does your music make people want to do that? No? More cry alone in their darkened bedroom? Oh well I guess there’s a need for that too.  Hey are you even old enough to be in here? Whatever — have fun. Go birds! (Wait…)” The underage interloper in this case is Lindsey Jordan, who was a whopping 16 years old when she released her debut EP Habit three years ago and a positively geriatric 18 when she released her full length Lush last year. I stumbled on this one same as I did the aforementioned Hop Along, traipsing thru peoples’ year end lists, and while her debut gets a little monotone by the end, Graham’s shimmery voice and dream-like aura has enough bright spots to get you coming back. Try “Pristine” for a taste (bonus radio track here is “Thinning” from the EP):
NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEXT! “Oh hi, Karen O! I love your old band, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. At least until they started getting all dancey and weird, that is. Taking the fire out of Nick Zinner’s guitar is like taking the makeup off of KISS — it’s kind of sad and a little horrifying to look at. I loved it when you guys were super raw and punky. I saw you back at the Showbox in Seattle for your debut album and it was amazing. You poured beer all over yourself and were shouting at the crowd. What are you doing now? Oh more dancey music? Like a full on trippy disco album? With Danger Mouse producing? (ahgoddamnityouguys) Oh ok, well, I guess that’s cool too? What’s in the past is past I suppose — I never thought disco was all that cool, but I DID wear baggy pleated pants and a gold rope chain so…..I guess we all have things we’ll want to forget. Anyway, good luck with the side projects — tell Nick and Brian hi!” So yeah — Karen O, Danger Mouse, disco music….it’s not what you wanted (or at least not what I wanted), but there are still a couple catchy moments. Lead single “Woman” is a retro blast from the 60s, replete with a Motown shine and an empowering message. Give it a go here (bonus track for Sunshine Radio is “Turn the Light”):
DING! “Oh hello, handsome — who are you? BONES? Well isn’t that positively ominous. How’d you get that nickname? Because you’re tough as nails and eat bones for breakfast? Because you’re a man of the street and survived by throwin’ dice? Because you’re only good at two things — kicking ass and making love and it sounded kind of silly to name yourself after the first one? You know what, don’t tell me — the mystery is more alluring. What kind of music do you play, Bones? The blues, huh? Another white boy playing the blues. Well that’s original I guess — who else have you played with? Bon Jovi?! And Kid Rock!? Oh christ — I’m not sure about this. Eh, whatever — you’ve got a lot of tattoos and seem like a bad boy. Why not — it feels so good to rebel…” This one comes from the mail bag and my old pal down in Texas who suggested ole Bones Owens recently. And while on paper I shouldn’t like him (and in practice some of the songs do seem a little superficial, but maybe that’s just cuz I’m hating on a boy from Missouri not being able to sing the blues authentically), some of the songs get thru in spite of the resistance. Try “Keep it Close” (bonus track for the radio is “Long Long Time”):
UK LIGHTNING ROUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUND! “Hi there! So you’re from England, eh? Cool — I like Newcastle. Excellent brown ale you’ve got there. Pretty crappy soccer team, but one of my old favorite players used to play there, good old Obafemi Martins. I used to love when he’d do backflips after scoring goals. I tried doing that once, nearly landed myself in the hospital. Yeah, those kids were pretty horrified — I’m sure they’ll grow out of it. Who remembers what happened at their 7th birthday party? Oh you do? You got a bike? And had a raspberry flavored cake? And your friend Timmy got stung by a bee and wouldn’t stop crying? Oh — well. Bully for you, I guess. Hope those kids don’t have the same recall — I lost six teeth and needed a transfusion from all the blood I lost…”
DING! “Hullo luv! Isn’t that what they say in your country? I’m pretty sure. So how are you — you’re from Newcastle too, huh? That’s too funny! Do you know those last guys? They’re also from there! Delightful cunts. I think you say that in your country, too, right? I’m not sure why we don’t say it more here — it’s quite fun. Hey so you guys must really love Queens of the Stone Age to mimic them so closely — you sound just like their early stuff! What do you mean you don’t understand — like, it’s uncanny. I think you even rip a few of their riffs off verbatim. It’s ok, I LOVE old Queens so am glad to hear some more songs like that since they’ve kinda left that sound behind a bit. Oh come on — EVERYONE knows who Queens are. Dave Grohl played with them, and Will Ferrell performed with them when they were on SNL before? Cmon — that’s like pretending you’ve never heard of ABBA or the Rolling Stones?! Now see that’s unnecessary — when you call me a cunt it sounds really harsh. Why are you being like this? Aw come back! CMON!”
DING! “Hey Yannis, great to see you again! You guys are one of my faves — I’ve seen you a bunch live and you’re always outstanding. What’ve you been up to lately? Oh you guys have TWO new albums coming out this year? That’s fantastic! Wait they’re about an apocalyptic future with a bunch of lyrics about foxes for some reason? AND you wanted the sound to be a lot dancier than before? LOTS of synths? (ahforfuckssake) Why’d you decide that was a good idea? Did you hear what I was telling Karen O about taking the piss out of Nick Zinner’s guitar? It’s the same with Jimmy — his stuff is always super catchy and ornate. Why does every band suddenly decide adding synths and going disco/dancey is a good fucking plan — I never once have thought, ‘You know what — tonight I’m gonna put on a silk shirt, throw a little mascara under my eyes, and just play keyboards all night. That’s what I’ve been missing!’ Whatever — I’ve gotta go…”
DING! “Justin Vernon, what are you doing here, you’re not British? Oh well that’s ok, you’re quirky and polite so I guess it’s fine. I love it over there too so don’t blame you — yeah anyplace but here these days, right? Anyway — I heard you’ve got some new music coming out, that’s exciting! Oh it’s going to be a continuation of the stuff you did on your last album, a lot of weird electronic noises and erratic jazz outbursts? And expand on the feel from the album you did with the guy from the National? Equal parts Bruce Hornsby and dancing Thom Yorke? With no guitar. Just TONS of keyboards. Holy christ. Ok. I gotta go — I can’t take this anymore…”
We’ll close with a couple articles, first a recap of the recent Rapture reunion with a ranking of their best songs courtesy of Stereogum. Similar to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs who hit around the same time, I loved these guys’ early albums — their marriage of punky brashness with danceable grooves was irresistible — and the list does a good job running through their best songs. (Two key omissions are “Sister Saviour” and “Get Myself Into It,” but they get bonus points for picking “Ben” and “Out of the Races,” which are two sleeper faves.) Last comes another one from the ‘Gum, this one an excellent piece on the 20th anniversary of the White Stripes’ debut (exhibit 7400 I am O.A.F.) — yet another band whose early stuff I adored before leaving that energy and fire behind for odder and odder flourishes. The article does a good job making the case for sincerity trumping pedigree in the debate for who can play what music (appropriate with the above discussion on Bones), as I always loved these guys — whether they were white kids from Detroit or true bluesmen/women from the Delta. Their shit just ripped, and this was a great setup to their future power. Two faves not mentioned in the article are “Astro” and “Screwdriver” — we’ll add those to the radio, though. In the meantime, give it a read and crank it up.
Now that most of you have had time to recover from the War of Winter’s Bone or whatever the clash of dragons was called last weekend, wanted to pop in to give you some tunes before you have to go back to the realm on Sunday. Most of you probably missed it, between the Avengers opening and going full Yeezy to watch the aforementioned Throne, but the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Ceremony was televised last weekend, which for music nerds like me is an annual anticipation along the lines of Christmas (though with less socks and Poopourri). Unlike other “big nights in music” like the Grammies or the Super Bowl, though, this one doesn’t suck. I might be in the minority here, but I’ll take performances from bands that’ve been delivering for decades over the latest K-pop “sensation” or montage of 30-second snippets sung by a shirtless dude with a tattoo of his home state on his belly in case he gets lost on tour. Add in the speeches about (and by) the band, as well as the video retrospectives spanning their careers, and it’s always a great watch. Whether you know (or like) the inductees, it’s the perfect place to learn a little about them, hear why you might want to pay attention (the speeches are often given by previous inductees or other music legends), and then watch them perform three of four of their biggest hits.
I always come away with a new appreciation for someone I might’ve followed on the margins (if at all) or a deeper love for bands I follow avidly, so it’s always an enjoyable time. This year’s crop included acts like Roxy Music, Stevie Nicks, and Def Leppard in the former camp, along with The Cure and Radiohead in the latter. NIN frontman Trent Reznor’s speech inducting The Cure was good and Robert Smith was endearing as always in his response, and the band was sharp as ever in their subsequent performance. (It remains a bucket list moment getting to see them live years ago, walking up at sunset amidst a sea of people in my beloved city by the lake while the notes of “Pictures of You” rained down on us like dust from a comet. I could have laid down and never gotten back up.)
Radiohead being Radiohead, though, was a different scenario. Each of the members has made comments in the past of indifference verging on dismissive towards the Hall and their possible (and then actual) induction, so it was unclear who (if anyone) would show up and what level of shit-talking (if any) they might undertake. Thankfully it wasn’t that bad — they weren’t no-shows (guitarist Ed O’Brien and drummer Phil Selway were there) and there was no shit-talking to be found (O’Brien and Selway seemed genuinely pleased to be getting inducted and were consummate Brits with their charming politeness). Unfortunately since it was only the two of them that meant there was no performance, so we were left with the video montage spanning their career to satiate us.
That wasn’t enough for me, though, so thankfully for the nine of you out there I’m here to fill the void if you find yourself in similar straits. Now that we’ve launched Sunshine Radio to popular acclaim (#73 on the Lithuanian Top 100 station list!), I decided to start bringing back one of the things I used to do on the old site, my periodic “One You Should Know” posts profiling bands that — as the title implies — you should know. Those were always better (in my opinion) than just popping a band into YouTube and listening to things on shuffle because these songs were hand picked by yours truly as the best they had to offer. (And if there’s one thing I think we can all agree on it’s that I have infallible taste — it’s why I associate with you clowns!) So we’ll revive that series here, combining my impeccable selections with the technology you kids know and love. (Similar to what we did last time for Wilco.)
In the coming months I’ll continue to dust off old OYSK posts and create substations for you on the Spotify so you can listen in ease (the old Sunshine was such a jerk — he made you look the songs up yourself!), but we’ll begin with one I created for the inductees. It spans each of their nine albums, as well as many of their EPs and singles, so should give you a good sense of why so many people love this band (including yours truly), even if they seem intent on driving you away some (most) times. At sixty-plus songs and nearly five hours in length, it should give you more than enough to chew on, charting their growth from more straightforward rockers to experimental cacti — and help you unearth at least one thing to enjoy. So fire it up and give it a spin:
While you listen I figured since we set the interwebs on fire when we did this the last time, my “friend” named “Gabriel” and I would jump in again for another spirited debate of “WHO’S ON TOP!” (cue applause) Last time we were debating the rankings of Wilco albums, so thought we’d go back to the well this time to examine the aforementioned inductees, Radiohead. Similar to last time we’re mostly in line with our choices, preferring earlier stuff to more recent material, quibbling over minor differences for what’s at the top, while agreeing (mostly) about what undeniably belongs on the bottom. (NOBODY likes Pablo..) Also similar to last time, though, when I showed him my list he reacted like I took a dump on his porch and flipped out. (Side note: I DID take a dump on his porch — Summerteeth forever!)
My rationale for the top pick is similar to what made me pick the aforementioned album for Wilco — it was the last album of the band’s early period, before they shifted from a more unvarnished, open style of music to a more jagged, opaque one, and that direct, earnest approach still resonates with me all these years later. The album that followed my top pick stylistically mirrors the one that did for Wilco — the first album of the new era, one where the band fused in electronic sounds and dissonance and delivered an instant classic, taking the band off on a new direction that they’ve never topped however many albums later. (Everyone seizes on how different/great Kid A was — well, almost everyone: Melody Maker called it “tubby, ostentatious, self-congratulatory, look-ma-I-can-suck-my-own-cock whiny old rubbish” in my hands-down favorite quote from an album review EVER — but they’d previewed the break in Computer and perfected it there.)
For Wilco the title fight (and resultant ranking) was between Summerteeth and Yankee Hotel — for Radiohead it’s The Bends and OK Computer. Both amazing, both albums I’ve listened to hundreds of times since they came out, so picking between them is sort of like deciding which of your lungs is more valued — I kinda love both of them, but if you force me to choose…I’m going with My Iron Lung. (That’s my left one, if you’re curious.) See what you think as you listen to the mix — but here’s my list for how they stack up:
The Bends
OK Computer
In Rainbows
Kid A
Amnesiac
Hail to the Thief
King of Limbs
A Moon Shaped Pool
Pablo Honey
And here’s “Gabriel’s”:
OK Computer
In Rainbows
Kid A
The Bends
A Moon Shaped Pool
King of Limbs
Amnesiac
Pablo Honey
Hail to the Thief
Clearly he’s an idiot for putting Moon so high and Thief so low (what do you expect for a corn-eating mouthbreather from the Midwest?), but otherwise we’re pretty much in sync. As I hinted at above, at a certain point arguing over where to rank these albums very much is like arguing over which of your organs you like more — there’s no right answer and ideally you’d like to keep all of them in place, but it’s what the interweb is for — pointless arguments and fleeting senses of superiority. So take that, “Gabriel” — I win again!
We’ll close with a couple one offs that crossed the threshold the past few weeks to round things out. First comes the latest single from the Aussie Oddge, Courtney Barnett, back with another lovably languid little gem (replete with another laughably snarky title). She released it in honor of Record Day, so no word on whether she’s recording another full length yet (her last one landed at #14 here last year), but in the meantime we can still enjoy this one, “Everybody Here Hates You:”
Next is the back end of the single released a few weeks ago by fellow Aussies Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever and it’s another shimmering, sunlit float down the river. These guys continue to drop solid track after solid track, so hopefully they keep the streak going in the coming months. (Their debut landed one slot higher than Barnett’s here last year.) Check out “Read my Mind” while we wait:
Speaking of streaks, next comes the latest in a long line of winners from the beloved National, back with another dour, lovely march through the darkness on “Hairpin Turns.” It’s the third single from their upcoming I Am Easy to Find (both of the previous songs, “Light Years” and “You Had Your Soul With You,” have shown up here) and it doesn’t do anything to shake the expectation that should be another year-long favorite. We’ll find out for sure in a couple of weeks (it’s due out 17 May), but in the interim bliss out in the blackness here:
We’ll close with a brash little attack to get us off the floor and thrashing around a bit (we gotta get you nerds ready for battle again Sunday night SOMEhow!) and this punky little gem from A. Swayze and the Ghosts, our final batch of Aussies whose debut single I stumbled on a few weeks back. There’s not much out there on these guys — they’re four Tasmanian devils from the town of Hobart (which is here, if you’re curious like me) and this song is one of a whopping three they’ve released on the interwebs. They’re all pretty catchy, but this one’s the definite winner — we’ll have to keep our eyes out for what comes next. For now, though, crank this puppy up and get movin’:
I’ve been reading the fan mail lately and one of the things that’s consistently come up is a desire for more. “Hey Bobby — your infrequent, random missives are super interesting. Totally not a worrisome window into a slightly deranged mind! Is there any way you could tell me what you think more, though? I really value the opinions of strangers on the internet! Signed, Randy from Des Moines” or “Hey Sunshine! Your postings are great — I re-read them all the time and hang my favorites on the fridge! Is there any way you could figure out how to weave your unsolicited suggestions into my life even more, though? Alexa and Siri aren’t doing it for me anymore. Sincerely, Beth from Tulsa.”
Well lucky for all you Beths and Randys out there there is. And it’s only fitting that we choose a dark, rainy morning to announce the launch of Sunshine Radio — what I’m certain will be a constant ray of light in each of your lives from this point on. After talking to several millenials at a recent focus group (shout out to Bree and Spencer) I decided to leverage this “streaming” thing they kept talking about and level the site up again. (Coming soon, augmented reality goggles.)
What I’ve done below is take every song I’ve written about the past three years and drop em in a playlist on Spotify. Singles are on there once, albums that made the year end lists get two entries, and “bands you should know” posts get several from the YouTube channels I created. You can subscribe to the station and it’ll automatically update as I continue to add to it (either crawling further into the depths of the old site or adding new stuff as we move forward) and share it with your friends if you think it’s worth the time. There’s over 300 songs on there already (20-plus hours of goodness!) — from rock to rap to electronica and beyond, everything you expect from my oddball collection of tastes — so plenty to keep you busy and (hopefully) interested. And remember if you find something you like it means I wrote about it at some point, so go back to the pages to see what else there is to know. I’ll also be going back to create playlists from the “bands you should know” posts so you can give those a listen in a more convenient way, but the main station will be the ever-evolving entity. So sign up and see what you think — it’s a little angry, a little sweet, and a little weird. Just like me!
Since it’s such an auspicious day, I thought I’d throw in an extra round of goodies for folks with the first of those “bands you should know” playlists — and since they hail from the number one place on the planet (#GPOE!), it’s only fitting they should be first out of the gate. So we’ll kick things off with the beloved band from my beloved city by the lake, Wilco. It’s a perfect time since I had the pleasure of seeing Tweedy in concert this week (another fantastic show — the new material sounded great alongside the band classics) and he’s actually dropping ANOTHER new album today (vinyl only for now, unfortunately) in honor of Record Day. He dropped the first single off it (“Family Ghost,” which sounded solid the other night) and recorded the album at the same time as Warm (which came out a whopping five months ago), so should be good. This review from Rolling Stone seems to think so. (And is written by someone I think I’d like to be friends with.)
All that goodness, as well as my last post, got me thinking about the band and how many great songs/albums they’ve had the past twenty odd years. So when one of my readers (we’ll call him “Gabriel” to protect his identity) started calling me an idiot for saying Summerteeth was my favorite album (“EVERYBODY knows it’s Yankee!”) I decided to come up with a playlist to see how things shook out. Based on that (and some deep meditation at a Tibetan retreat), here’s what I came up with:
Summerteeth
Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
Being There
Sky Blue Sky
Wilco (The Album)
A Ghost is Born
Schmilco
AM
The Whole Love
Star Wars
Out of curiosity I also asked “Gabriel” what HIS list would look like, and he came back with the following:
Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
Sky Blue Sky
A Ghost is Born
Being There
Wilco (The Album)
Summerteeth
AM
Schmilco
The Whole Love
Star Wars
As you can see, they’re not too far off, despite his reacting like I called his kid ugly (which I’m sure he is — probably looks just like him) — consensus that we prefer the early material to some of the more recent stuff, that we think Yankee is amazing, and that we really don’t like Star Wars (the album — the movies are amazing. “Gabriel” actually said he regularly cosplays as Chewbacca on the weekends because he barely has to use makeup (just on the top of his head (ZING!)) and already speaks so similarly (DOUBLE ZING!))
The main distinction is where we put Summerteeth and Ghost — I stand by my love of Summer (I AM named after its top export after all), but will concede that Ghost was better than I remembered. Historically I tend to shy away from that one a little because you could tell some of Tweedy’s more destructive impulses were winning out (as confirmed in his recent biography when he describes being at the scary depths of his drug dependencies at this time). Songs devolved into aimless noodling and/or pointless noise (two of the album’s tracks clock in at nearly half an hour combined) and lyrically you could tell he wasn’t in a good spot. That said, there were still some beautiful melodies in there (“Hell is Chrome” and “Company in my Back” are but two examples) so while I still don’t rate it as highly as “Gabriel” (apparently he likes music that’s reminiscent of him — rambling and incoherent at times) it tightens that cluster in the middle of my list a little. See what you think as you listen to the below — and feel free to send me your rankings. There’s nothing the internet needs more than white people debating “important” issues!
Before the big sportsball exhibitions kick off tonight, wanted to highlight some really good releases that’ve come out in the past week — as well as some solid retrospectives on a few beloved bands/albums. In honor of this evening there are four of them and they cover the past four-plus decades, taking us all the way back to the dawn of Sunshine and the late 70s. So without further ado, let’s jump in the time machine and see where we land.
First stop is the gritty pit that was LA in the late 70s and an article from Pitchfork on one of that era’s key bands, the punkabilly quartet X, in honor of the recent reissue of its debut. It does a good job setting the scene and explaining how the band emerged from (and rebelled against) that landscape before walking you through the first album. Like most trips down memory lane, it’s easy to get lost fixating on the things that seem silly in hindsight (what the fuck was I thinking — turtlenecks AND a ponytail?) — be it the ridiculous names the members adopted (frontman/bassist John Doe, guitarist Billy Zoom, drummer DJ Bonebrake — only frontwoman Exene avoids the eye roll there), the fact the band was mixing rockabilly with punk and still trying to be tough (which is a little like Marty threatening to knife you at the Enchantment Under the Sea dance), or that for some reason the Doors figured heavily in their history (aside from covering that band’s classic “Soul Kitchen” here, keyboardist Ray Manzarek shows up several times on the album and produced several of their albums).
If you focus on those things it’s easy to miss how cool these guys really are — the interplay between Doe and Exene’s voices (which in contrast to the atonal screamers typically in a punk band are really quite good), the ripping solos from Zoom, the breathless bedrock of Bonebrake’s beats. Somehow it all works, and forty years later there’s still no one that sounds like them. Their early albums are consistently solid (Under the Big Black Sun‘s still probably my fave) and I had the pleasure of seeing them live a few years ago and they hadn’t lost a step. Give this cut from the debut a try:
We’ll leave Los Angeles and make our way to Nirvana, via Chicago, as this next band would say, because somehow Wilco’s classic Summerteeth turned 20 recently. (Exhibit 9763 I am OAF) Stereogum does a really good job talking through the album and its creation (as well as its impact) so definitely recommend giving it a read. For those who aren’t familiar with the band or have never listened to this album (which — if this is true, let’s fix both those things immediately) it’s great insight into a great album. I’m actually one of the people who will tell you (“wrongly, but earnestly,” in the author’s words) this is actually the best album Wilco ever made. It’s certainly my favorite. Twenty years later this is still the album of theirs I listen to the most — far and away.
Despite the frictions encountered while making it, the album is filled with beauty — heart-lifting songs one minute, heart-breakers the next — and zero down spots. In terms of quality, that is — the melodies here are absolute killers and Tweedy’s lyrics had never been this honest and open before — but they’d also never been this wrenching. As the article (and Tweedy’s recent biography) explain, both he and the band were not in a great place at this point, and that bleeds through in the songs — there’s a gutshot desperation behind a lot of them, whether covered up with poppy tunes as on “Can’t Stand It” and “I’m Always in Love” or left stark and unvarnished as on “She’s a Jar,” “We’re Just Friends,” and “How to Fight Loneliness.” You can tell this album wasn’t something that was easily acquired — this took and reflected a toll — but that’s what made it so powerful. It felt exactly like the refrain from “A Shot in the Arm” — the ashtray says you’ve been up all night — and it was that brutal, beleaguered vulnerability that drew you in (and still does). This was the first album of theirs I fell in love with and a glimpse of their impending gem Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, which is the one most folks point to as their masterpiece (and don’t get me wrong, it’s amazing), but for me this one’s the pinnacle. See for yourself here:
Next we’ll head back to the west coast and the soggy streets of Seattle to commemorate an unfortunate anniversary, the 25 years since Kurt Cobain’s death. In order to mark that occasion NME ranked every Nirvana song — from the studio albums to the slew of forgettable demos and B-sides from the disappointing With the Lights Out box set — so there’s a lot to get through. (102, to be precise.) I disagree with the author to an extent — I tend to trust artists to put out their best material and am rarely impressed by unreleased tracks (a perspective largely unchanged here), so don’t think Cobain’s every thought/song was borderline genius like he seems to — but he gets it right when it counts and has some interesting context on the classics so is worth a skim. (Note: unless you’re a true believer like him you can skip most of the fluff and tune in once the studio albums start kicking in halfway through.) Unquestioning idolatry aside, I agree with him on two key points — in general In Utero beats out Nevermind (its unbridled power just speaks to me more than the melodic polish of its predecessor these days) and his top pick is also mine (its combo of slow-fast shifts alongside their patented quiet-loud dynamics make it an absolute juggernaut) — so kudos for not going with the knee-jerk votes. See if you agree with us and take a trip to the muddy banks of the Wishka while you read:
Lastly we’ll jet to the home of NME and the land of political upheaval (I should say — non-US based political upheaval), the fabled anarchy in the UK, for the impending return of the underappreciated Doves. (As well as the ten year anniversary of their farewell, Kingdom of Rust.) To celebrate Stereogum ranked the band’s top ten songs, walking you through a bit of the band’s history (and why you should care) first. They do a good job spreading their picks across the band’s four albums, rightly capping it with one from their classic debut, which remains my favorite. (Though I might have picked the title track or “The Man Who Told Everything,” or even the mostly wordless “Firesuite” as emblematic alternates.) As the article describes, these guys always had an epic edge to their songs, one that was transportive and cinematic in its effect, which is why it’s such a shame more folks haven’t heard of them. Glad to hear they’re recording new stuff, though — in the meantime step up to the sampler platter and see whatcha like.
We’ll bring it back to the present and head into overtime with a few quick shots before the buzzer — first the latest single from Kevin Morby’s upcoming album Oh My God. Similar to previous single “No Halo,” this latest one (“Nothing Sacred/All Things Wild”) is another slow-burner devoid of his customary guitar. It still works, though — Morby’s voice is as compelling alone as it is dancing over the six string, so hopefully the rest of the album is as good as these (and his previous albums). Give it a listen here:
We’ll keep things subdued with this one from former Walkmen guitarist Paul Maroon who teams up with Panda Bear (aka Noah Lennox) on the sleepy gem “I Don’t Need a Crowd.” It’s built around a vintage Maroon riff, all lovely reverb and shimmer, and you expect frontman Hamilton to come in like normal (he does, just on a completely different song, the single’s flip side). Lennox holds his own, though, and it’s a pretty affair. No word on a full album or anything else at this point, so we’ll have to enjoy this for now:
Since we’re already mellow, let’s keep the vibe low key with the latest from the Lumineers, whose upcoming album (the aptly named III) is due out this September. Since their last album original member cellist/singer Neyla Pekarek has left, replaced by violinist/singer Lauren Jacobsen, but that hasn’t led to a discernible change in the band’s sound. At least not yet — frontman Wesley Schultz’s voice still draws you in, as do the narrative lyrics (this time about an alcoholic woman named Gloria), so let’s hope things continue once the full album arrives. In the meantime enjoy the first single:
Since we’re on a roll we’ll go with one more downbeat track before picking things up a bit, this one from the ever lovely National and the latest single from their upcoming I am Easy to Find (due out 17 May). This one hearkens back to pre-electronic era Boxer/Alligator offerings and is everything there is to love about these guys — stately sound, poignant lyrics, and just plain pretty. Yet another gem in a long line of em — pop it on and bliss out:
Time’s running short so it’s time to turn up the temperature as we build to the big finish, starting with the latest track from Rooster and Animal, aka the beloved bluesy duo Black Pistol Fire, “Black Halo.” Similar to the recent single from the Keys (who these guys get compared to a lot and I like just as much) there’s nothing special going on — they’re not breaking from what they normally do or tossing in any wrinkles — but like I said for those guys, there’s something to be said for consistency and durability. These days I don’t want wild surprises or trendy new fads (no avocado toast and shocking revelations for me, thanks) — these days I’m quite happy with a bourbon or beer and a plate of steak and potatoes. So if you’re in the same place, check in with our boys and enjoy a little ramble with the Rooster:
We’ll close with a three before time expires, in this case the latest in a flurry of offerings from Vampire Weekend leading to the release of their much-anticipated double album Father of the Bride (due out 3 May). First is the simple, yet infectious “Sunflower,” which aside from a trippy video directed by Jonah Hill (and featuring Jerry Seinfeld in a deli) sports a catchy little riff and frontman Ezra Koenig’s characteristically crazy cadence (“suuuuuUUUUN!FlowER! in tha mooooooooooooooooooooooorning”) that get firmly lodged in your head. Then there’s the more traditional “This Life,” which finds Koenig singing about love and life with his usual earnest splendor. The game winner is the B-side, though, and the almost unbearably pretty “Unbearably White.” Its lyrics about a seemingly stalled relationship are compelling enough, but the real knife in the heart is the song’s riff, which is as pristine and lovely as that field of snow. Give it a listen here:
Of course it being the weekend and finally having an opportunity to sleep in a little, my body decides to wake up even earlier than during the week (4am instead of the normally sporty 5), compounding the deficit we’ll all shortly have with the extra hour of sleep we lose tonight. Whether you lose a bunch like me or you lose just the single hour tomorrow, there’s a ton of new stuff out to help you wile away the time. It’s another sign of the coming spring after a long stretch of cold, barren months — new songs and albums popping up like bright green growth from last year’s bulbs. It’s a welcome sight and hopefully bodes well for a bounty harvest. Since there’s so many I’ll bore you less with my insights than normal (the eight of you got your wish!), so without further ado let’s kick off a round of Sunshine Speed Dating!
DING! “Hi, what’s your name? Grian? How do you spell that? Oh you’re in a band? What’s it called? Oh…….[long pause] you know that place is filled with assholes and idiots, don’t you…” [cue both parties looking at their watches, neither of whom are actually wearing one] First up meet Fontaines D.C., a band from one of the best places on earth (Ireland) whose name calls out one of the worst (this shitbox) and whose frontman’s (Grian Chatten) I’m still not sure how to say. Don’t let the monikers keep you away, though, as these guys have some pretty catchy tunes on their debut, Dogrel, which comes out in April. None moreso than the lead single, “Big,” which is the perfect soundtrack for one of these rounds — bright, energetic, and just about two minutes long. Give it a ride here:
Next! “Oh you look familiar — Czarface, isn’t it? Something’s a little different, though — did you ombre your hair?! No? You just brought in another emcee? Mmm…I dunno, I still think you did something to your hair…”  State of the strands aside, the touch of color Czarface bring to their already good getup is Ghostface, teaming with his Wu brother Inspectah Deck (along with Esoteric and 7L) for the first time since that band’s official albums. This group continues its recent pattern of pairing with another big name act to make an album (along with their overall hit or miss streak), dropping this on the heels of last year’s partnership with MF Doom. Similar to that one, it’s got a couple good tracks on it, including this puppy, “Mongolian Beef,” so check out the latest fishscale here:
Next up — “Oh hi! Good to see you again — Will, isn’t it? Ha, yes, not Will-i.am, that guy’s a bit of a clown. You have spent the last few years re-recording your early material as synthy dance tracks, though, so…” [insert awkward silence and shuffling] The Will in this case is Toledo, the frontman/brainchild of Car Seat Headrest, and while he has spent more time reworking (“improving”) old songs than I’d like (as on last year’s Twin Fantasy), it seems like he’s been writing new material based on some recent shows. One of those tracks is “Can’t Cool Me Down,” which despite the nearly two minute synth intro (honestly — if one more band starts dicking around with synths………..) is a pretty catchy tune. We’ll see what else he churns out — in the meantime, see what you think:
Neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeext! “Oh hello! My that’s a lovely accent you have. Oh all five of you have it — meoooow! Where are you from again? Oh nice — ha yes I’m sure you all have a tremendous amount of thunder down under, but I’m quite fine not seeing it firsthand, thanks…” The lads with the didgeridoos in their Dockers here are the Aussie quintet Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever who look to be coming back from their full-length debut last year (which landed at #13 on my list) and releasing some new material. The first single is “In the Capital” (which apparently will be followed by one called “Read My Mind,” based on the cover) and it’s another winner in the vein of War on Drugs or Roadkill Ghost Choir — bright guitars, shining melody, and the perfect soundtrack for a drive on the coast with the windows down. Take it for a spin yourself:
NEXT! “HELL-o, laaaaaaaaaaDEEZ… Pleased to make your acquaintance. Or should I say ‘acquaintances.’ Cuz there’s three of you. I’m good at counting. I took math a bunch. In school. What? No I’m not nervous. Why would I be? Girls don’t terrify me. I read an article on what they search for on porn sites and it totally didn’t make me break into a sweat…” (Side note — I’m very worried about what’s happening in Iowa, Missouri, and Maine… special shout out to the Uzbek women as the globe’s sole proponents for research on MILfs) The ladies in question here are Mary Timony’s posse from Ex Hex who are back for the first time since their debut, 2015’s aptly named Rips (which landed at #13 on that year’s list), and it sounds like they’ve lost none of their edge the past four years. They’ve already released a couple singles from the upcoming album (It’s Real, due out March 22nd), but this third one “Rainbow Shiner” is my favorite so far — another ripper right in line with 80s rockers from Joan Jett and Heart (and their debut). Break out the leather and Aqua Net and crank up the volume:
NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEXT! “What’re you doing here? I thought you were dating the Waxahatchee lady? She’s got a pretty voice — I love her first couple albums. The covers you two have been doing together are pretty great, too. Hey has anyone ever told you you sound a lot like Bob Dylan? Oh all the time? Literally every person you meet? Well that’s a bummer. You really do sound just like him, though…” That’s right, the boy who sounds like the bard is back again, ready to drop another album full of gems on a mostly unsuspecting population. That’s a real shame because Morby has quickly become one of my overall favorites, dropping a string of great albums the past few years — City Music landed at #4 on my 2017 list, Singing Saw at #6 on my 2016 one, and Still Life at #10 on my 2014 one. He’s back with another full length (Oh My God, due out April 26th), which he says will tackle religion and spirituality. Seems like a dicey proposition, but based on the initial track will likely be worth a listen. It’s a different subject matter for him and maybe as a result so is the sound he’s surrounding it with — in addition to the hand claps there’s also flute, sax, and piano with almost nary no guitar to be found. It still works, though, so we’ll see what the rest of the album brings — in the meantime check out “No Halo” here:
LIGHTNING ROUND! “Oh man! You used to be in the Walkmen! (You guys were one of my absolute faves) But now you’re doing solo stuff (that’s also been really good, very glitzy and Sinatra-like) and you did one album with the dude from Vampire Weekend (I know he left, but you’ll be fine — that’s why you’re here!) but you also did an album with your old guitarist in there that no one heard about (Dear God). It came out three years ago? Eesh, I’m really sorry — well I really like the one song I found, “Proud Irene” — I’m going to go look for the rest of the album now. Hope to see you again soon — good luck!”
DING! “Oh hey, you’re the guy who sounds like Dave Grohl when he sings! I love Dave Grohl. He seems like the coolest dude. I’d love to have a drink with him or just hang out. He is just so funny! And MAN what a drummer — our generation’s John Bonham. Do you know Dave Grohl? Oh right sorry — no I really like your band Pile too. I’ve written about em a couple of times on my blog. Well, don’t get too excited, literally like eight people read it. But I try. One day I’ll break into double digits… Anyway, I really dig you guys. You really rip when you let loose. I’m glad to hear you’ve got a new album coming out (Green and Gray, due May 3). The first single is pretty cool — I’m not sure what a “Bruxist Grin” is (is that the smile of a Marxist Teddy Ruxpin or something? I should look it up…) but it sounds cool. I’m looking forward to the rest of the album — hopefully it rocks a little more than Hairshirt, that was a little weird…”
DING! “OOOOH Chemical Brothers, you guys NEVER come to the States. It’s an honor! I saw the video for “We’ve Got to Try” and it’s pretty great. Where’d you get the idea to have a dog drive a racecar? And then become an astronaut! Ha, that was really funny. My dog doesn’t do much but snuggle and fart — sometimes at the same time. Just like my wife! I kid, I kid. Anyway, I’m glad to see you guys have a new album coming out soon (No Geography, due April 12th) — your ninth! That’s super impressive. You guys are always really good — I’m looking forward to hearing the rest of the album. By the way — can you please do some shows in the States? I’m too lazy to travel and afraid of foreign food — just fast food and golf carts for me. Just like the President! Wait where are you going? It’s nothing to be ashamed of!”
DING! “Wow. That is a huge glass of red wine, Mr Berninger. What is it, merlot? Remember that scene from the movie Sideways? ‘I am NOT drinking any fucking merlot!’ That was a pretty funny scene. That guy kind of reminds me of you. Bearded, smart, kind of cranky and forlorn. Do you know him? I think we’d get along well together — I mean, YOU’D get along well together. I’m nothing like that… Anyway. I love your band — the new single’s nice. The female vocalist was a nice touch, but I wish you guys would let up with the electronic stuff a bit, though. You trying to be Radiohead or Bon Iver? Wait Justin Vernon is really tight with your guitarist? And they were actually in a band together and curated a festival last year? Oh wow right, I forgot. Anyway, you guys always make my year end lists (2017, 2013, 2010, and 2008) and Boxer’s one of my all-time faves. Yeah yep, I write a blog, one day people will read it, it’s about the love of the music and doesn’t matter how many people hit it, I know, you’re right. Boxer, though, what an amazing album. It was the soundtrack to one of my old relationships and its explosive end. Yeah it was a MESS. That is kind of a dark album. Time, too. Man oh man, what a show… but we get out of it — you’re right. I’m glad you’re in a better place, too, Mr Giamatti — hey do you mind if I have a sip of that merlot?”
DING! “Dan Auerbach! Man I love your band. You and Carney have been faves since thickfreakness. I’ve seen you live like a gajillion times. There was one stretch where either you or the band were at Lolla for like five years straight. It was almost like you were the house band! I’ve written about you a ton too — Attack and Release was my album of the year back in 2008 and Turn Blue came in second in 2014. What? Oh yeah I have a blog. No, not many people read it, you’re right. Ha yep, you have more albums than I have readers, that’s probably true. Very funny, Mr Auerbach… Anyway, I know you’ve been busy producing a bunch of people the past few years — Pat too — but I’m really glad to hear you two have an album coming out soon. Yeah I know it doesn’t sound very different from your other stuff, but that’s ok — the world could use a little consistency and rock and roll right now. Yeah, I know Greta’s doing rock and roll — have you heard their lyrics though? Fucking cornball fantasy nonsense and cheesy cliches about getting high when you’re low. Wait you guys have a line like that too? In this song?! I’m sure it’s just a coincidence — I didn’t mean you guys were corny. I love you guys — come back!”
DING! FINAL ROUND! “Oh hey Local Natives! You guys are great — and back with TWO new singles?! Who are you trying to impress? Ha oh right, me, that’s why you’re here. “Cafe Amarillo” was nice and I really liked “When Am I going to Lose You.” I saw Kate Mara in the video for that one — she’s really pretty. Did you get nervous talking to her? That never happens to me, but I hear it does to some people. Particularly when you think about what they’re thinking about. Like — do you know what girls in New England look for on the internet? Squirts, and I don’t think they’re talking about the beverage… Anyway, you guys are great — I love how chill your albums are. Your last one made my year end list (Sunlit Youth, #8 in 2016). What? Yeah I have a blog. No, I know not many people read it. Yeah I could see why you’d think that’s a big waste of time. Yeah particularly when I’ve been doing it for over ten years. For this page. Other ones were…..exactly the same. But yeah, you guys are great. Hey it’s really been fun to talk to you — where’s Berninger with that fucking merlot…”
In the midst of the whiplashing weather this week — going from the dead in 60 seconds deep freeze to springtime 60s and back again — I plowed through Mark Yarm’s Everybody Loves our Town: An Oral History of Grunge, which I stumbled upon back home at Myopic a few months ago. As indicated by the title, it tells the tale of the rise and fall of grunge, the rocketship that burst into the heavens in the early to mid-90s, turning legions of kids into flannel-sporting shoegazers, before blowing apart almost as quickly on reentry.
It follows the same format as Lizzy Goodman’s Meet me in the Bathroom: Rebirth and Rock and Roll in New York City 2001-2011, which chronicled an equally epochal (and ephemeral) moment in music, leveraging the memories of the era’s key participants — everyone from band members and producers to journalists and standers-by — to remind us how that moment (and its seminal albums) came to be. What’s unavoidable in comparison to that book, though, is how differently it makes you view the music (and its makers) by its conclusion. As I wrote before, Goodman’s tale was full of really good bands — the Strokes, Interpol, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, LCD Soundsystem, the Rapture, the Walkmen, the National, Grizzly Bear, Vampire Weekend, Kings of Leon, the Vines, and the Hives, among many others — being made by people who (for the most part) seem like folks you’d want to have a beer with. They seem funny, self-deprecating, and passionate about the music they were making, and each of their bands have at least two outstanding albums, if not more, among them.
Contrast this with those found in Yarm’s book and you’ve got basically four bands who weren’t mostly (or completely) terrible — Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, and Alice in Chains — and a scene full of delusional, pretentious dicks, a significant chunk of whom also happen to be raging drug addicts and/or alcoholics. Almost nowhere in their recounting is a love of the music they were making — which when you go back and listen makes sense because outside the big four most of these bands have at best one mediocre album to their name, and that’s being generous — but almost everywhere is this cloying sense of entitlement — an endless litany of people saying they were a better singer/drummer/guitarist than this person, that their band was better than this band, that they should have gotten this magazine cover or record deal or be the ones who were famous. It’s an exhausting, frustrating, read as a result — which apparently shouldn’t be a surprise, because as one of the journalists says early on, “Seattle isn’t a glamorous town at all. It was pretty pathetic. Very depressing. That’s where this music came out of…Grunge isn’t a music style, it’s complaining set to a drop-D tuning.”
And that’s what we get — nearly 550 pages of backbiting and bitching, talking about a scene (and sound) no one seems to particularly like much (but still want the credit for creating/guiding/driving). Where Goodman’s book makes you look back more fondly on the titans and want to investigate the smaller bands around them, Yarm’s makes you question even liking the big bands to an extent and want to completely avoid the smaller ones because of the cumulative effect of disgust you get from their deeds/disposition. If Goodman’s book was full of the equivalent of happy drunks, Yarm’s is full of their opposite, hateful, destructive disasters you want to steer clear of at all costs. Goodman’s tales of excess involved people who got fucked up and danced, jammed, or goofed around, the rooms seemingly filled with warmth and laughter. Yarm’s, on the other hand, are filled with people who got fucked up and fought (each other or strangers, verbally and/or physically), destroyed things (rooms and/or relationships, mostly just because they could) and/or OD’d, the rooms seemingly filled with bile and belligerence. Goodman’s drunks are the ones who hug you and tell you they love you, Yarm’s are the ones who punch you in the face, fuck your girlfriend, and take a dump on your coffeetable after they smash up your apartment.
Almost no one escapes unscathed — only Nirvana’s Krist Novaselic and the ever-unassailable Dave Grohl come off looking like upstanding human beings, as does Pearl Jam for their decision to stop doing interviews at the height of the frenzy to focus on their music instead of how to become more famous. The vast majority that remain invoke varying degrees of revulsion in the recounting for being self-important, self-indulgent, and/or otherwise shitty to their fellow man. It even affects some of the big four — the Alice guys’ drug and booze fueled debauchery (aside from the very sad tale of frontman Layne Staley) was disappointing, and the same goes for several of the guys in Soundgarden (aside from the sad fate of frontman Chris Cornell). The complaining and outright disdain for those around them (including their fans) is oppressive, like a flannel after a heavy rain. (One comical discovery to that point was the latter band being referred to as Frowngarden due to their perpetual demeanor.)
It’s all very unfortunate — due in no small part to the high number of deaths that occurred during this span, which number nearly in the double digits (most by overdose, with one homicide and one very famous suicide as well), but also because of how important some of this music was to people. I remember vividly when Nirvana started blowing up, becoming an omnipresent part of my teenage years, plastered on every magazine and TV screen you found. I was in middle school and remember hearing “Teen Spirit” for the first time in a Sam Goody, standing there captivated by how loud the drums were (and how angry/indecipherable the singer’s screams were) while watching the cover with the tiny penis spinning from the ceiling. I remember listening to the follow-on In Utero in the car with my dad, cringing when Cobain sang about cancer turning someone black in “Heart-shaped Box,” but identifying instantly with the album’s anger as my mom was nearing the end of her battle with that plague. I remember waiting eagerly in line at the mall for the second Pearl Jam album to come out and listening to the third one incessantly while working shifts at the local ice cream store, cramming whipped cream-filled piroulines into my face almost as quickly as the riffs raced by in its blistering lead single, “Spin the Black Circle.” (Pearl Jam may not be responsible for my days as a doughboy, but they were certainly witness…) And I remember even then the moments that gave me pause — inscrutable lyrics that were passed off as poetry, pretentiousness that was passed off as genius, mediocrity or the willfully weird that were passed off as legendary greats, as well as untold songs and scenes about drug abuse that were passed off as passe parts of the party instead of worrying cause for alarm.
Each of those glimmers from my adolescent memory are highlighted in withering incandescence here and the additional focus makes you realize all of the fame, hype, and pressure almost couldn’t have happened to a worse group of people — not just in terms of temperament (ie good things happening to shitty people), but more in how they’d be able to handle it once it arrived. And based on their own testimony, it was a recipe for disaster — self-destructive behavior spun out of control (far too often fatally), delusion and disagreeability led to fractious divorces and disputes, egos and insecurities spiraled into depression or self-obsession, with the end result being the music suffered and the people who most needed help often didn’t get it.
It’s a truly depressing mess made all the worse because the music plays such a small part of their recollections. Grohl is one of the few who talks about music being the one thing he knows he’s meant to do and one of his overarching joys. For almost everyone else it seems like just a job or an excuse to sportfuck and get blackout drunk or high. (Or a way to continue deluding yourself with misguided thoughts of your own greatness — you’re right, guy, Cat Butt didn’t get as big as Pearl Jam or Nirvana because you refused to sacrifice your “artistic integrity.” NOT because you’re in a band called Cat Butt and the music sucks. Christ…) How the music industry coopted and cannibalized the good parts of the moment is well known and unfortunate, but so are the lesser known elements that helped them along — the bands and individuals whose actions this book lays bare. This one’s a disappointing reminder on the perils of power and its ability to reveal people’s true natures.
Now that the temperatures are finally starting to climb above Antarctic resort levels and I begin to regain sensation in my fingers (back home in Chiberia they’re expecting temps to jump between 80 and 90 degrees this weekend!), thought I’d crawl out of my igloo to highlight a couple of salmon I caught swimming by under the ice. Since my last post a few weeks ago I’ve been obsessed with The Last Waltz, partly because of how negatively drummer Levon Helm talked about it in his autobiography, but also because of how good I’ve always thought it was. I remember first seeing it way back in high school when I got home from being out one night (probably at something totally rad like chess club or raging with the mathletes). The local access station always showed a weird mix of stuff in the late night hours — Three Stooges blocs, All in the Family or Laugh In mini-marathons, bad B-movies, or old concerts — and I always found a bunch of things that caught my fancy.
This night they were obviously fishing from the latter category and I remember watching with curiosity as it opened with this strange (but lovely) orchestral music, as well as interviews with these shaggy guys I didn’t recognize — including what appeared to be a crazy homeless guy curled up on a couch (who I later learned was keyboard/pianist Richard Manuel). Once they got to the music, though, I was grabbed from the outset — this country-tinged shuffle of an intro quickly followed by the drummer growling, “When I get offa this-a mounTIN, ya knoooow where I wanna go — straight dooooown the Miiiiiiiiiiiiiississippi Rivah to tha Guuuuuuulf-a Meeeeeeeexicooooooooooooooo!” in the opening classic “Up on Cripple Creek.”
It’s a great song, to be sure, but something about the band itself prevented you from looking away — whether it was that crazy homeless guy banging away at the keys with a voice that sounded a little like Ray Charles, or that drummer who looked like a lumberjack and sang out of the side of his face, or the other organ player who looked like a physicist and had an untameable mane of hair exploding from his bald spot’s perimeter like the President’s does now. To say nothing of the skinny guitarist with circle glasses ripping off riff after riff without breaking a sweat, or the bassist with the voice that emerged in a series of sweet honks, or the endless parade of legends — Muddy Waters, Eric Clapton, Van Morrison, Bob Dylan, and a couple of Neils (Young and Diamond), among others — coming out one after the other across this warm, opulent stage.
It was magnetic — the way each person sang a different song, each song spanned a different genre, and so many superstars wanted to say goodbye to these strangers I’d never heard of. (In addition to them playing for nearly three hours and almost everything they sang being so dang catchy.) To hear Helm talk about it so harshly made me wonder if I’d missed something or had somehow gotten it wrong, so I went back after reading his book to make sure this wasn’t yet another item from my youth that I’d overvalued or outgrown (like Cavaricci pants or role playing games). And while the movie is still amazing — it’s almost worth watching just to hear the exchange between Robertson and Clapton as they trade licks on “Further On Up the Road” and see the smile on Clapton’s face when Robertson crushes the so-called god of guitar, or the tingle-inducing end of “It Makes No Difference” when Hudson appears, invoking what might be the first/only time in human history where you think to yourself “FUCK yeah, saxophone!” — what’s captivated me the past few weeks has been the 40th anniversary audio edition, which has nearly another hour and a half’s worth of material that I never knew about.
Thanks to Helm’s account I learned more about how that day went down, with the band playing basically non-stop for four or five hours, doing essentially a Band concert on its own before each of the allies and influences started coming out to play two to three songs a piece (vs the single songs that show up in the movie), along with several encores and rehearsals. For some reason they didn’t film all of the above, only recorded most of the audio, so there’s a bunch of treasures I’d never heard until I started mining my obsession the past few weeks. And while I think it’s fair to say the movie captured most of the concert’s best segments, there were a bunch of really good songs that somehow didn’t make the cut — the New Orleans tinged (or titled) “Life is a Carnival” and “Down South in New Orleans,” the swinging hoedowns of “Rag Mama Rag” and “W.S. Walcott Medicine Show,” or the uniquely Band-ish tracks like “This Wheels on Fire” and “King Harvest.”
Hearing all this made me understand Helm’s distaste a little more — not only because the Band sounded so good (Helm’s gravely growl in particular is a delight, making songs from the first two albums sound better than they ever did on the records), but also due to the haphazard chaos of the movie, which missed several key moments. (Helm was specifically annoyed with how Muddy Waters was handled, with the great track “Caldonia” left out as well as the legend’s intro/exit.) That said, I still think writ large this captures a magical moment in time — a band in its prime giving a monster farewell show with some of the biggest names of the day — that definitely lives up to the mantra of “leave em wanting more.” Check out some of my favorites and see for yourself:
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We’ll close with the regular assortment of one-offs — first this article from Stereogum on the anniversary of beloved Built to Spill’s classic, Keep it Like a Secret, which turns 20 today (exhibit 12760 why I am O.A.F.) It does a good job walking you through the album and its many gems — I had the good fortune to see them perform this in its entirety two years ago back home and it was like a one hour waking dream. Warm, shapeshifting, and hazy around the edges, this thing’s perfect from top to bottom. Pop this on and hop onto the cloud:
Next comes a surprise single from Interpol, “Fine Mess,” whose album last year was the good-not-great Marauder (although it topped body double Gabriel’s year end list, which just shows his taste is as questionable as our appearance), and it hearkens back to the band’s early years, all nervous energy and twitchy guitars. It’s unclear whether this is part of another album or an extra from the last one, but it’s a good listen regardless — give it a spin here:
Up next comes the much-anticipated return of fellow New Yorkers Vampire Weekend, who released two songs from their upcoming album Father of the Bride this week. It’ll be the first album without founding member Rostam Batmanglij and their first since 2013’s Modern Vampires of the City(number 7 on that year’s list), so the band plans to come back strong by making it an 18-song double album. “2021” is a slight little throwaway, but “Harmony Hall” is a solid song, sporty a lovely little guitar riff that doubles on itself before adding in pianos and building to a bright chorus. Hopefully the rest of the album leans towards this one vs the former:
Next comes another surprise return, this time from former Libertine (and tabloid trainwreck) Pete Doherty, who’s been touring with a new side project, the Puta Madres (which means “jolly sailors” in Spanish), and plans to release their debut soon. Doherty has apparently cleaned up his act after years of trying to kill himself with drugs and booze (he even reconciled with former bandmate Carl Barat, recording a new album three years ago I somehow missed) and while the shambolic energy of that former unit’s early years is missing, it’s still a pretty good song. I’ll be curious to hear the rest of the album when it comes out — give this a ride in the meantime:
We’ll close by circling back to the start and another offering from America’s Hat, this time with the latest single from Canadian punks Pup who plan to release their third album Morbid Stuff in the coming months. Thankfully it doesn’t sound like they’re straying from the formula that’s gotten them this far (no dreaded synthesizers in sight), tossing off another catchy, high energy ripper. Let’s hope the rest of the album follows suit — check out “Kids” while we wait:
Since the wind is howling outside like a frigid tornado and it’s therefore too damn cold to do anything else, thought I’d pop in with a couple recommendations that’ve kept me company by the fire, three auto-biographies for folks familiar to the eight of you that you might find worth a spin.
First comes the coffeetable sized book about the beloved Lizard (aptly named Book) — because if anything says “I’m warm and inviting — place me out in the open so children and random visitors can rifle through me,” it’s these guys, one of the loudest, heaviest, and flat out ferocious bands around. Comic irony about the book’s format aside, it’s a great read — aside from quick backgrounds on each of the members, told first in the individual’s words and then added to by the remaining three members, it walks through each of the band’s albums, from the drum machine origins of Pure to the disappointing departure of Blue. Bassist David Sims leads most of those discussions, giving interesting background on the recording process writ large, as well as recollections (and recommendations) for specific songs on each album.  There’s validation in hearing that your favorite albums/songs are some of his/theirs as well (Goat, Liar, and Shot rank highest, and Down is acknowledged as one of the weakest), but it’s also fun to go back to albums/songs you’ve written off and try them again because they’re his/their favorites. (“Trephination” and “Too Bad About the Fire,” for example, or virtually all of Blue, which they still like/rank higher than Down.)
There’s also a ton of great photos of the band, both at gigs and behind the scenes (the blood-splattered guitar of Duane Denison with no explanation raises a tantalizing array of questions), and loads of stories/additional context from non-band members, such as producers, writers, and fans. The ode to the first second of “Boilermaker” is one of my favorites — both because it’s spot on and because not many bands elicit this level of adulation. (I’m afraid to look, but highly doubt there are blog posts or articles about the intricacies of 21 Pilots songs.) Here’s a taste:
“The opening second of Liar is hands down the greatest opening second of any album ever recorded…Part of its charm is how hilariously self-defeating it is to put the climax of your album within its first second…if Liar were a splatter flick, it would start with the woodchipper scene. It’s getting cold-cocked without even seeing the face of your attacker. No matter what volume your stereo is at, it’s too loud…it’s like walking in mid bark…it’s opening the door to find the Jesus Lizard rehearsing (or worse) in your living room…[it’s] an abrupt jolt coming in midsentence, seeming to send the message, “Uh, the party’s already started, where the fuck have you been?'”
Next comes the tale of Tweedy, as remembered by Jeff himself, Let’s Go (So We Can Get Back). Apparently Santa is one of the eight readers here, as she heard my wish and delivered this to me just after the holiday, and I’m glad he did because it’s a fast, enjoyable read. Despite what you’d guess based on the tone of most of Tweedy’s music, he’s got a really good sense of humor (saying a signature on one of the pictures in The Loft had been “eradicated by the power of sad mid-tempo rock,” for example) and he’s often self-deprecating, which helps keep the mood light, even when he’s talking about pretty serious stuff — whether it’s the well-publicized breaks from the Jays — Jay Farrar from Uncle Tupelo and Jay Bennett from Wilco — or his equally well-publicized addiction to painkillers. Tweedy seems intent on not glossing over things to make himself look good, owning up to elements that helped lead to those breaks and providing details that really drive home that first point (such as admitting he would steal painkillers from his dying mother-in-law when he was in the grips of his addiction).
It makes for a resonant, sympathetic read — from his childhood in Belleville, Illinois, a tiny town outside St Louis with “the longest Main Street in America,” where his dad worked for the train company (the town’s main employer) and his mom would put up posters for his early gigs (while also adorably taking money at the door) to the formative days of Uncle Tupelo, trading music with Farrar and his family, and the birth of Wilco in the wake of the former’s demise. Tweedy unsurprisingly knows how to tell a tale, and he walks us through a lot in the book’s ~300 pages — aside from the aforementioned episodes, he also details a lifelong insecurity and anxiety surrounding his music that seems surprising for someone of his undeniable skill. (It also leads him to admit to something I’ve long suspected, his “trying…to find ways to undermine songs,” which seems like a form of self-defense now that you know where it’s coming from.) Both for what he’s gone through and how he chooses to portray it, Tweedy really endears himself to the reader and makes you connect to the music in new ways, now that you’re armed with additional context and detail. Reiterates the suspicion that he’s a guy you’d like to hang out with for a couple hours — or at least I sure would… (if for no other reason because he knows about ridiculous things like this video, which he mentions in the intro as something guaranteed to make him smile, and it certainly worked for me. Be sure to stick around for the “solo” a little over a minute in…)
Last up comes the story of The Band as told by its drummer, the famed wild man Levon Helm, in This Wheel’s on Fire.It’s an equally vivid read, as one would expect with a narrator like Helm, taking you from the cotton farms of his youth in Arkansas to his formative years on the road with Ronnie Hawkins, which ultimately became the farm team for the future hall of famers. Both segments of his life feel like relics of a long-ago past — the sharecropping, segregation-era South and the birth of rock and roll — but Helm’s natural storytelling ability makes both crackle with detail. Whether working the fields in the blistering heat, living in houses with no electricity or plumbing, or working the chitlins circuit, driving thousands of miles and playing hundreds of gigs, often for little or no pay, you can picture everything whether you believe it actually happened or not. Which is not to imply Helm is embellishing, just that these eras seem so distant despite only being 60 or 70 years in the rearview mirror. (Another such example being his seeing Elvis play a show early on with no drummer because there was a law you couldn’t have one in a place that served liquor!)
Helm’s stories about life on the road during the birth of rock and roll are particularly incredible — playing four to five gigs a day, six to seven days a week, with a lead singer (Ronnie “The Hawk” Hawkins) doing backflips onstage and a piano player hitting the keys so hard the hammers would pop out like popcorn. Driving all over the South, playing torrid sets and getting in bar fights (and at least once blowing a place up for not paying them), before driving all the way to Canada to repeat the process. It sounded like barely contained bedlam — but man it also sounded like fun…
Through it all Helm’s country phrasings liven the proceedings, with lines like “so cheap he could squeeze a nickel hard enough to make the buffalo shit” or “stunned like a hog staring at a wristwatch” (or even calling harmonicas “harps”) giving everything a warmth and geniality as if you were sitting around the campfire listening to him tell stories. Even when he gets to the Band era, which gets a lot more complicated and dark despite the fame and success, the stories are still engaging and give you insight into another key period in our history, the Vietnam/Woodstock era of the late 60s/early 70s.
Similar to Tweedy and Sims, Helm is refreshingly honest, talking candidly about the band’s output (essentially the Big Pink and its self-titled successor are the only two albums he rates highly) as well as its ultimate demise (he spares no sharpness for Robbie Robertson and his decision to pull the plug, in addition to causing their decline in the first place by taking almost all the songwriting credits). It was surprising to hear how much he hated The Last Waltz, which I still think is pretty great, but based on the circumstances at the time (as well as what it sounds like got left out of the final product) makes sense in his telling. It’s an entertaining read, whether you’re a devotee of the band’s music or not.
That’s it for now — hope you enjoy these. I’ll see you once the ice hurricane lets up…
We’re in strange new territory here — the government remains closed for longer than it ever has before, and I’m older and mangier than I’ve ever been before. No coincidence those get commemorated on the same day — if ever there was a corollary to the constant disappointment, stupidity, and ineptitude in DC, it’s me. And so on this esteemed day in history I wanted to do my part to give fellow furloughers something to celebrate in the form of good music.
It’s been a pretty bountiful first couple weeks to the new year — maybe a positive sign this year is going to break from the bludgeoning slog of the past few? (I wouldn’t be Sunshine if I didn’t foolishly think so!) — and there are seven things worth flagging for folks so far. First up comes a pair of singles from the Raconteurs’ return, Jack White’s first super side project featuring solo songman Brendan Benson and Jack Lawrence/Patrick Keeler from the Greenhornes. We haven’t seen the band for a decade, as White has spent his time recording crummy solo records and generally growing more cantankerous/crazy on his ranch outside Nashville.
Similar to another formerly-beloved frontman whose previously unimpeachable taste and talent has largely disappeared in recent years, Billy Corgan, White also seems to misunderstand what made him great. I caught him last summer when he was touring his most recent material and ended up leaving early — “I used to have a girl drummer so if I have a girl drummer and play old songs people will think it’s amazing! I also used to rip off tight, glorious little guitar solos and people would lose their minds so if I do lots of them — and longer! — then that’s even BETTER!” Instead it was a pale, vainglorious reminder of past glory, like trying to fit into your high school clothes as if two or three decades hadn’t passed. As with Corgan it’s frustrating to see someone you enjoyed so much fall so short of that mark now. Maybe this reunion is what White needs to get back on track, though, as the first two singles — “Sunday Driver” and “Now That You’re Gone” — are promising starts. The latter has White tossing out bright little licks to balance Benson’s vocals while the former has White front and center, shouting lyrics into the mic atop a beefy guitar riff. We’ll see how the rest turns out — the band always fell into the solid, not stellar category for me before, but I’ll take a little more solid and reliable these days. See what you think:
Next comes the return of another act who ghosted the past decade, Seattle solo man David Bazan — better known as Pedro the Lion — who hasn’t shown up wearing that moniker since 2004. Bazan is known for his warm voice and intimate lyrics, often about love/relationships, and his debut It’s Hard to Find a Friend remains a well-loved favorite. (Check out tracks like “Big Trucks,” “Bad Diary Days,” and “Of Minor Prophets and their Prostitute Wives” to see why.) Bazan’s spent the intervening years rattling off a string of solo albums (seven by my count), but decided to return to Pedro last year, playing a few shows to test the waters and ultimately recording a new album (the appropriately named Phoenix, which will be released next week — 18 Jan). He’s released three singles so far — “Yellow Bike,” “Model Homes,” and my favorite, “Quietest Friend,” which is a lovely tune in line with those from his twenty-years-gone debut. Hopefully the rest of the return lives up to these. Give the latter a listen here:
Up next comes the latest single from UK outfit UNKLE, which used to fuse hip hop and electronic elements in thrilling, unique fashion on its early outings (their 1998 debut Psyence Fiction remains a classic) before shifting to a more eclectic mix in recent years (2010’s Where Did the Night Falllanded at number nine on that year’s list). Their last album was a disappointment (2017’s The Road, Vol. 1, which was a down-tempo, overly theatrical slog), but the first cut from the upcoming album (The Road: Part II/Lost Highway, due out 29 Mar) sounds like a return to their early days. Sporting an Al Green sample and a shuffling trip hop beat that’s tough to ignore, the song calls to mind fellow British legends Massive Attack in both mood and delivery. (Which is almost never a bad thing…) The album looks like a long one with 16 songs on the track listing (minus tiny little interludes), so hopefully the remainder fall more in line with this one. Check it out in the meantime here:
Last of the listens comes from Rob Sonic’s latest album, Defriender, which snuck in silently at the end of the year and almost went unnoticed — by everyone except my new bestie Numu, I should say, which is the unblinking eye of Sauron and SHALL not be defeated! (Seriously, everyone should download this app — it catches everything!) It’s his first since 2014’s outstanding double feature where he dropped his third solo album, Alice in Thunderdome, as well as the second chapter of his equally excellent partnership with Aesop Rock in Hail Mary Mallon, which dropped Bestiary. Unfortunately this one’s a letdown compared to those two — Sonic’s lyrics are still sharp as ever, but the beats are uncharacteristically weak this time around. Except on this one, “Air D&D,” which is a vintage cut I’ve listened to a bunch. Maybe the album will grow on me — in the meantime crank this one, which besides the throbbing Prodigy-style beat opens with the line I want to start most conversations with these days:
We’ll close with some worthwhile reading material, each a retrospective on a classic album or band that are worth revisiting. First comes this article from Pitchfork on the Buzzcocks’ Singles Going Steady, which marked the end of the band’s brief reign and remains a much-loved classic. The article does a good job charting the band’s rise and its place in punk’s pantheon (as well as its importance overall) and it — like the album — is a good entree for the uninitiated. I had the good fortune of catching these guys a few years ago at Riot Fest and it was a treat, as I was too young to catch them in their prime. They still put on a good show all these years later, so pop this one on Spotify and give it a read.
Next comes a look back on the Flight of the Conchords — the THIRD thing on this list making a return after nearly a decade away (what’s next, my chronic acne and inability to talk to women?) — by the folks at Vice. The duo recently popped up on Colbert with a new song (the characteristically funny “Father and Son”) and did a full reunion special in London late last year that’s showing on HBO and quite good. The article recaps the band’s hey day, while also lamenting its departure (as paralleled in “The Bus Driver Song,” which he uses as a centerpiece for the conversation). It’s a good read and reminder of how funny these guys were — for me, I often think of the hair helmet and crack up and wish I could take attendance at meetings because of these guys. Definitely worth watching the special, too.
Last comes this retrospective from Rolling Stone on the Band, Dylan’s former backing band that became a full on force in its own right later on. I quibble a bit with some of the rankings (whether Levon Helm hated it or not, The Last Waltz is an absolute gem and the best introduction to their songs), but it does a nice job giving some history and context for each of the albums (and the band’s often tumultuous state at the time). Definitely a band worth knowing — songs like “Up on Cripple Creek” and “The Weight” are timeless, and “The Night they Drove Old Dixie Down” and “Ophelia” (among countless others) ain’t too bad either. Give it a read — and definitely track down The Last Waltz if you’ve never seen it before. It’s an epic close to a band and an era.
