reflections

I've entered another one of those blank stages. I feel stagnant, lazy. Maybe the high heat and humidity of this miserable summer has had something to do with that. It's hard to be outside in the punishing sun with no where to take cover and no way around sweating through my shirt. I've been listening to some new records that I've really enjoyed like Mines from Menomena, Part II: The New December from Fol Chen, Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty from Big Boi and Disconnect From Desire from School Of Seven Bells. All the time spent indoors in the air conditioning, however, has caused me to reflect, yet again, on who I am, where I came from and what got me here. That's unpleasant work sometimes. Reflection can so often bring up the old, painful memories. It sheds light on those embarrassing and shameful moments, but the truth is it's the dark things, as well as the light, that have made me who I am today. I've been trying to relate this to music as well, considering what albums have made the most impact on my ears and have shaped the way I listen to things. I think I've come up with a few that I'd like to share. Some are probably obvious and seem like an easy choice. Others may be a little embarrassing. It's all true regardless, and it makes up my music history.


Bruce Springsteen - Born In The USA (1984)

When I was a kid my dad used to work out regularly in our basement. We had a rowing machine, a nordic track and some free weights. Dad used to put on his sweats, turn up the stereo and go to work. I would often observe from the basement steps or participate by dancing to the music. The playlist was rather exclusive. It was usually Sports (1983) by Huey Lewis & The News, Eliminator (1983) by ZZ Top or Born In The USA. The funny thing is that my mom was the big Boss fan, not my dad. Perhaps it was his guilty pleasure. At any rate, songs like "Downbound Train," "My Hometown" and "I'm On Fire" were burned into my brain (and that's not mention the mega hits from this album, "Dancing in the Dark" and "Glory Days"). At the time I didn't think much of the music. It was my parents music. Now I hear Springsteen's influence in every other band that wants to be somebody, from Dr. Dog to the Killers to Arcade Fire.


Sam Cooke - The Man And His Music (1986)

What a voice! Sam was another favorite of my mother's and I was exposed to him at a young age. I used to love singing along with him on hits like "Cupid" and "Wonderful World". Still do. He had great songs along with great arrangements and his voice was golden. "A Change Is Gonna Come" is excellent and I'm not ashamed to say that there have been times when it's moved me to tears. I'm not usually a fan of compilation albums, preferring the full length LPs over a collection of hits, but I grew up with this one and it's special to me. It's also out of print so, good luck finding a new copy. I was a bit disappointed a few years back to read about Sam Cooke the man and his womanizing ways. I was tempted to let it tarnish the brilliance of his music, especially the gospel songs, but then I remembered that he was human just like the rest of us.



A Tribe Called Quest - The Low End Theory (1991)

This was my first rap cassette, purchased at age 12. Before this I was listening to things you might expect a child to like. Stuff my mom had passed on like the Rascals and the Monkees and then stuff from the radio like Roxette, Boyz II Men and Kris Kross. The Low End Theory changed everything for me and set me on a path that led deep through '90s rap, hip-hop and R&B, and then later through jazz. Needless to say, it disturbed my parents. Of course, I wasn't aware at the time but Tribe was changing the game with this album. It wove jazz and hip-hop together in a way that few albums before it did.



Wu-Tang Clan - Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) (1993)

If Tribe disturbed my parents, 36 Chambers would have killed them. Fortunately I was smart enough to hide it from them. It's dark and grimey, with that basement sound that is now characteristic of the Wu. Certainly not something a 13 year-old should listen to. It's rated R. I can remember being shocked at the language, knowing right away that most adults I knew wouldn't approve. I loved it and still do. It was the next step into rap music for me. I was fascinated by the stories they told. It was all foreign to me, a young white boy living in the suburbs. It was a window into another world, one full of drugs, violence and street poetry. At the same time it was also a world of make believe crafted from bits and pieces of old kung-fu flicks and comic book persona's. The combination of real street drama and bizarre martial art fantasy was brilliant. I couldn't get enough.



Soundgarden - Superunknown (1994)

It wasn't really until after high school that I would venture into other genres besides rap and hip-hop but before that there were a few albums that got my attention. Pearl Jam's Ten was one of them, and it perhaps developed a longer lasting bond, but Superunknown really connected for me. I have no doubt that it's dark atmosphere is the reason. The mood is not a far cry from that of 36 Chambers or any 2Pac, Biggie or Bone Thugs-N-Harmony record. The emotion is not all that different either. It's bleak, sad, angry and a bit self destructive. And I was a teenager. This one would be my companion and my ruler when I finally decided I could listen to alternative music.


Outkast - ATLiens (1996)

This is what I decided rap music should sound like. Story telling, street knowledge, cultural awareness and dope beats. Somehow they managed to turn from the gangsta tendencies that littered their debut (which really didn't suit them so well to begin with) to this middle of the road classic. It's possible to observe and report the violence in your neighborhood without taking part. It's possible to want to change a situation but still contribute to the problem. Life is messy. So is fame. "Elevators (Me & You)" is probably one of my favorite songs of all time. I can remember reciting the lyrics for some kids my age when I was in Romania. They seemed impressed. Or maybe they just thought it was funny. I enjoyed it in either case. Big Boi and Andre remain in a class by themselves. Who else would have had the guts to release songs like "E.T. (Extraterrestrial)," which does not include a single drum beat, or "Millennium," which exposes some of their insecurities and features a wordless chorus that consists of humming (if you can call it that. It's more like grunting). They made it work somehow, placing them back to back in the track list.


Radiohead - OK Computer (1997)

My freshman year of college I roomed with a good friend from high school who had very different taste in music. He was a grudge fan and didn't care much for rap or hip-hop. He would listen to Pearl Jam's "Jeremy" and The Bends by Radiohead over and over again until it would make me sick and I'd yell at him to turn it off. That's when he would turn it up. We were sort of like siblings. We enjoyed getting on each others nerves now and then. I would get back at him by refusing to take out the trash. It wasn't until a couple of years later when I was forced to diagram the sonic landscape of "Subterranean Homesick Alien" for a recording class that I understood Ben's obsession with Radiohead. They are on a whole other level. Being asked to diagram that song turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It completely changed the way I listened to music. I was suddenly aware of the entire sonic field and could isolate sounds and instruments in songs. This album made me appreciate how the little things come together to make great things.


Interpol - Turn On The Bright Lights (2002)

I'm not really sure how to explain this one. I just feel like it opened me up to a bunch of new things. There was a time when I thought that if something wasn't on the radio it wasn't worth hearing. Turn On The Bright Lights completely disproved that for me. It was good timing because although my recording classes and Radiohead had widened my gaze,the side effect was that most mainstream, radio friendly songs had started sounding one dimensional and generally boring. Suddenly here's Interpol and this stuff called "Indie" music ready to quench my thirst. Bright Lights also helped me expand my catalog backwards after realizing that there was a bunch of classic stuff made in the '80s that I had never heard (i.e. Joy Division and the Cure). Interpol brought both the present and the past together for me in one really great album. How nice of them.


Portishead - Dummy (1994)

Also in my recording classes were some folks who were both talented musicians and informed members of the underground and indie culture. In one of our first classes we went around the room and shared what music we had been listening to. I admitted somewhat sheepishly that Pete Yorn's musicforthemorningafter had been playing in my car on the way to class. By the end of the semester these guys had pointed me to a ton of great albums. The one that I wished I had known about years earlier was Dummy. I'd been listening to Wu-Tang all those years without a clue that several of their samples came from Portishead. This was a blow to my hip-hop ego. I got over it, after a while, and then gladly shared the entire Portishead discography with everyone I knew. What this album really taught me, though, is that rap music has had a deep impact on a whole slew of other artists and it led me to people like DJ Shadow, Diplo, Lamb, Massive Attack and Bjork.


Tom Waits - Mule Variations (1999)

I used to be a part of a group of folks that would swap records, hoping to expand our collections and our ears. Most of these folks were music snobs and I don't think they would mind me saying so. To be honest, I did more taking than giving, feeling that what I had to share was not worthy enough. This is one of the treasure's that I took. In perhaps the same way as Turn On The Bright Lights, Mule Variations softened me towards two really great things: Tom Waits and classic singer/songwriter types. I had a bit of a hard time getting past Tom's voice. It's not easy to swallow, you must admit. Something about this album made it click for me though. It's so earthy and dusty and it feels so real, like a piece of Tom himself was somehow used to make it. I went on a Tom Waits binge after I heard this album a couple of years ago. It was all I listened to for weeks. Somehow getting into Tom made it possible for me to explore other greats like Nick Drake, Jackson Browne, Neil Young and Bob Dylan. There is a link somewhere in there that I can't quite put my finger on but trust me, it's there.


I'm sure I could keep listing albums that have advanced my music experience. I'm thinking of people like Digable Planets, Arrested Development, Mogwai, the Beatles, Pink Floyd...perhaps I'll write about them and more some other time. The ten I've listed here are just the first ones that came to mind. They're also albums that I frequently turn to when uncertainty paralyzes me. Right now...I'm off to get some ice cream.

best of the '00s

I recently read Paste Magazine's list of the 50 best albums of the decade. It's no surprise, I did not agree with many of their choices. It struck me that this was my opportunity to start my own little music column. So, I set about making a "corrected" list of top albums from the last ten years. Paste claimed to include artists that "shaped your decade." They made some terrible oversights. Here are my parameters: influence, innovation, originality and above all, personal taste. These are 5 of my 50, in no particular order, because it makes no sense to order them. They are all too unique to rank.




50. Gnarls Barkley - St. Elsewhere (2006)

The opening track could not be more appropriate. The machine sounds of a projector being wound, the stumbling drums, the horns sounding and Cee-Lo Green bellowing - announcing his freedom to the world. After several attempts to make a nice fit out of hip-hop, Cee-Lo finally found a counter part just about as nutty as himself in Danger Mouse. Together they craft just the kind of genre melding, mind boggling, loony tunes that Cee-Lo's voice and personality were made for. This is not to take away from the fairly successful career Cee-Lo had held up to this point. He was a key member of a group that help define southern rap in the '90s. In fact, Goodie Mob could be credited for coining the phrase "dirty south." But his voice felt restricted. You had the sense there was much more he had to say, and a much more dynamic way to say it. Although his two solo records allowed him to spread his wings a bit and shed light on his psychedelic side, he never seemed able to make the move to the mainstream and break out of the box rap music had put him in. He is actually crazy, I believe it. But it's a good crazy, the smart kind. What makes St. Elsewhere so good is his partner knows just how to guide that craziness - with the correct doses of funk, soul and trippy beats to make you see colors and want to hide under the covers at the same time. It is a certifiably insane musical smorgasbord.

Danger Mouse is a mad scientist. You have to be in order to spend countless hours dissecting classic Beatles recordings note by note and have the vision to pair them with Jay-Z, constructing the Grey Album, the most famous mash-up record of our time. He'd already show cased his ability to chill and thrill, manning the boards for Gorillaz second release Demon Days. What he managed to do with St. Elsewhere is put music to Cee-Lo's wide mouthed grin while revealing the psycho behind it. The beat behind "Just A Thought" is just plain manic. Fitting for a song about the kind of desperation that drives one to consider suicide. "Smiley Faces" allows Cee-Lo to give us those classic soul-sounding vocals of his and actually makes you feel happy. "Necromancer" makes you want to lock up your daughters. It has creepy slow groove and lyrics like "With this ring I thee wed, a body in my bed/She was cool when I met her, but I think I like her better dead." Is it really any wonder some folks are afraid of clowns?

I wonder if either Cee-Lo or Danger Mouse knew just how appropriate and enormously popular "Crazy" would end up being? Something tells me they did. What they also managed to do was create a perfect example of the kind of creative goodness that crossing over should be about.




49. Deerhunter - Cryptograms (2007)

It's no longer uncommon to experiment with guitar driven music. That's been happening for decades and some guys in a band called Radiohead sorta made it mainstream. Some other bands before them like Pink Floyd, the Velvet Underground and even the Beatles have tried to bend our ears and stretch our mind's imagination with musical landscapes. Deerhunter is not any of those bands. There is nothing new happening here, at least not in their technique. This is an experimental record, one which every pot smoking, sticker licking psychedelic rock fan would probably be bug-eyed through. The cover art conveys that adequately. Much of the album drones and swells with ambient loops and fuzz and strings and in-between those moments are well crafted rhythms of rage, confusion and fear. It's strangely calming and a bit terrifying at the same time. But before I go on, it seems important to point out the physical condition of lead singer Brandon Cox.

You may have seen the cover art for Logos, his latest release under Atlas Sound. The shell of a man you see in that photo is not from some stock library. That is Brandon Cox. To say he's extremely skinny is an understatement. The man is skin over bones. Word on the web is that he suffers from Marfan syndrome. The Pitchfork review of Cryptograms mentions that he suffered daily panic attacks during it's recording.

I bring up Cox's condition because it strikes me as completely fitting. He and his band made a seamless recording that feels very natural, even includes nature sounds (check out the album intro or "Providence"), that often lulls me to stillness and then builds into a wall of noise. It's not hard to imagine how it might have tormented it's maker during it's creation.

What I find most impressive about Cryptograms is that natural feeling. It's especially surprising after learning that it was made in two separate recording sessions. Far too often, it seems, a band attempts to make a record to trip to and it ends up sounding disjointed, forced, loud and annoying (although, maybe that's just because I don't get high). I'm not saying that was Deerhunter's intention here. In fact, I don't believe it was. It's psychedelic in nature because of it's experimentalism, not the other way around. I have to believe that the likes of John Cale and Brian Eno would be fans of this record. But, then again, what do I know? I just really dig it.




48. Tom Waits - Real Gone (2004)

I sort of have this impression that Waits is never given enough credit. In my mind, the man is a living legend in American music. He's our Leonard Cohen, our Elvis Costello. He may not be as influential as Dylan, but he should sit on the same shelf. His creativity and his gift for story telling are unmatched. His voice is unmistakable. The dusty, backyard carnival music he's been crafting since the mid '80s seems to peak here.

Real Gone is the first of his twenty releases where his piano is not employed. There are also small steps of innovation, as with most of his other projects. "Top Of Hill" features Waits beatboxing. "Metropolitan Glide" incorporates record scratching samples, with Tom's son, Casey manning the turntables. On paper, those additions might sound a bit ridiculous, but they just become a part of the pile Waits throws together with all the other howls, barks, clangs and clatter he can gather from the junkyard. Real Gone also happens to feature some of the only political songs Waits has written, "Hoist That Rag," "Sins of My Father," and "Day After Tomorrow."

Although none of this is strikingly different from the few releases prior, this is a unique record. Everything Waits creates is one of kind, not easily replicated. This album is no exception. However, Real Gone feels much more cohesive than Alice or Blood Money. He manages to make his growls and groans, his honest balladry and poetry fit together likes pieces of a puzzle. Another compliment to his legendary career.




47. Modest Mouse - Good News For People Who Like Bad News (2004)

This is not their best work. The Moon and Antartica was near perfect. It was the definition of their sound. What makes Good News impressive is the way the band chose to follow their best album to date. This is a new Modest Mouse. It's not a complete make over, however. In fact, what makes the album so solid is the subtle changes they implement. Suddenly, they can be upbeat without sounding frantic. They can make music about death and loss ("Ocean Breathes Salty") while making our toes tap. They gave us an enormously popular song ("Float On") without abandoning the things that had made them successful to this point - a sharp wit, bent and mangled guitar sounds and the bark of Isaac Brock.

There is, of course, more than the hits here. "Bukowski" and "One Chance" give us a glimpse of the future Modest Mouse, with the kind of depth and rich sound that defines We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank. "The View" spins and whirls, like the old Modest Mouse, with biting sarcasm. There are sections of the album that stalls in spots, however. Like the rather repetitive "Dance Hall". It may not be their best, but this album went platinum and they did it their way.




46. Outkast - Speakerboxx/The Love Below

Like it or not, this was a game changer. I'm not even sure where to start. A dash of Prince, a sprinkle of George Clinton, a pinch of southern syrup and a smattering of dirty south tic-tic boom equals an instant classic. If you don't think folks like Cee-Lo Green, Kanye West, Raphael Saadiq and countless others weren't taking notes upon first listen to The Love Below you're crazy. I imagine southern rap legends like UGK and the Geto Boys continuously turning up the volume on Speakerboxxx and turning up their noses at the same time. Both discs have their strange moments and their moments of utter brilliance. It's probably not uncommon for some to hate one disc and love the other. Andre's is out of left field. True, his flair for the bizarre had become increasingly obvious since Aquemini. I remember seeing the duo at a free show at the University of Maryland pre-Stankonia and both loving and hating the white fury boots Dre skipped around the stage in. I'm not sure anyone knew just how focused his madness was until hearing "Spread," five tracks into his disc. At least that's how it worked for me - Ah, I get it. He's actually got a blueprint for this. Although Big Boi's disc is not a departure entirely, I imagine if you played "Bowtie" for the Big Boi of '94 and told him it was his future he would laugh in your face (and maybe give you a pimp slap).

The distance the two of them had traveled in less than ten years is remarkable. If you're like me and have been riding with these "Two Dope Boyz (In A Cadillac)" since the days of the "Player's Ball," you must have been shaking your head when they dropped this two-disc gem. Big Boi's disc could act as a career re-cap. In includes a little bit of everything. He's got the funk and jazz you might expect Dre to usually bring and the thump and crunk that got them going with "Ain't No Thang." "Reset" sounds like it could have been on ATLiens, complete with Goodie Mob cameos, while "Ghetto Musick" is a bridge to Stankonia. I don't know exactly what to compare Dre's disc to, at least from Outkast's previous work. "The Whole World" might be the closest. But it's mostly full of classic soul and funk melded with outer space. Not to mention a mega hit that both mothers and daughters can dance to with "Hey Ya!"

Certainly deserving of "best of the decade" consideration.

more to come...