Plunderphonic - Plunderphonic

Mystery Tape Laboratory: 1989

(A Patreon Request)

It's not every decade that a conceptual album title so perfectly encapsulates a new genre of music that it's forever attributed to it ...but enough about Brian Eno's Ambient 1: Music For Airports. We're here to read my typed words regarding Plunderphonic, the seminal album from John Oswald that took the concept of sampling into strange new realms.

These aren't remixes or pilfered breaks or the stitching of uncleared sources into something entirely new, oh no. Mr. Oswald's aim was re-contextualize existing and familiar music such that you could still easily recognize the source, but be thrown just askew enough that it sounds warped and twisted from the author's original intent. As you can imagine, this was highly dodgy where copyright was concerned, but John never intended to make a single dime out of the project, giving copies away freely to radio stations, libraries, and passing gents. Even that wasn't good enough for the Canadian Recording Industry Association though, forcing him to destroy any copies he had on his person or face being sued into oblivion. Thus, original CD copies of this album now fetch stupid prices on the collector's market, which kinda' defeats Mr. Oswald's intent, doesn't it.

Another key gimmick/challenge/stylistic-choice John placed upon himself in crafting these tracks was to only use material recorded by a given artist in each piece. For instance, opener Beatles only uses The Big Chord that ended their song A Day In The Life (plus some fanfare chords). Dab tape-splices and edits Michael Jackson's Bad (in case the cheeky cover-art didn't give it away). Don't pilfers Elvis Presley's Don't Be Cruel. Net cribs snippets off of Metallica's And Justice For All (and sounds like a really complex math-metal tune in the process – I wonder if anyone's tried performing this live?). Spring plays about with Stravinsky's Rite Of Spring (for a composition that induced a riot when it premiered, it sure does receive love from unconventional sources). Brown gets ultra-meta in raiding Public Enemy's raiding of James Brown. As should be clear, no genre or scene was safe from Oswald's interest, everything from any era fair game for plunder.

Which is all interesting to hear, especially for trainspotters and studio rats. Does it actually sound good though, or does Oswald's incessant cutting, splicing, and layering render tunes intimately familiar into weird nonsense? Eh, depends on what you want out of this. Why settle for a herky-jerky mess in Birth when you can hear The Beatles original Birthday instead – oh, isn't it cool how manipulated it sounds though? I don't know anything about the jazz originals Mirror gets its stuff from, but to my ears, it don't come off much different than the actual nonsensical improv free-jazz gets up to on the regular. Still, d'at ambient drone of Rainbow!

There's fun bits and pieces in Plunderphonic, but ultimately comes off as John Oswald intended : an exercise in abstract studio artistry, with familiar music as the painter's palette. Goodness, how pretentious.

The Oak Ridge Boys - American Dreams

MCA Records: 1989

Greetings, Past-Peoples, I am 2073 Sykonee. Yes, the same writer/reviewer/critic/knob that usually takes up space on this antiquated blooger, but from “The F-U-U-UTUR-R-RE”, as some so quaintly put it. Sykonee Prime made use of his time-dimension machine to take a jaunt forward for once, and despite some really wacky paradoxes even Doc Rick Brown, The Schwifty-Bitch would have trouble explaining, approached I to learn of what developments had gone down in electronic music. I was willing to tell himself this, but he was quickly fascinated by the ponderous amount of social-net music from The Oak Ridge Boys instead. Why them, I asked myself, to which I told me, “They're one of the few officially sanctioned acts by the Atomic Brotherhood.” Young-Blood Me was of course confused – what did I expect from skipping over so much history?

Without getting too over-written, The Oak Ridge Boys are allowed due to their association with the nuclear research base near Oak Ridge, Tennessee, starting out in the Nauty-Forties as a country and gospel group that performed there. For seeing is believing that only music with relevance to our atomic overlords and saviours is deemed worthy of our advanced cochleas.

Sykonee Prime found that fascinating and asked me to return from my time to review some music from The Oak Ridge Boys. “Whatever I can find,” I did say, “for a specifically cheaply amount of course.” Oh, such a naive idea – I had no clue just how extensive a discography The Oak Ridge Boys – in all their iterations – does have. But sure, I can play with myself.

And so it is with my logical but impractical alphabetical approach to reviewing music, up first is American Dreams. This was the last LP The Oak Ridge Boys released in the Nauty-Eighties, a decade that was as commercially successful as they'd ever be (back when such things mattered). Not all was right with the group though, as their iconic 'mountain man' tenor singer William Golden was off on a solo career, replaced by bass player Steve Sanders instead. He has a definite tenor singing voice, but just look at him in that group photo. Doesn't he stand out at odds with that mullet? What was wrong with people of the Nauty-Eighties?

By this point, the boys from near Oak Ridge were settled into a comfortable country sound, the odd gospel harmony thrown in. There's peppy tunes like Cajun Girl and Don't Give Up, humorous sap like If I Was To Start Crying (spoiler: they do at the end), covers of Rod Stewart songs (In My Own Crazy Way), ditties penned by Joey Scarbury (famous for the theme song of the documentary The Greatest American Hero), creeper fantasies in Bed Of Roses, and the mandated Americana odes like An American Family, Turning For Home, and The American Dream. I forget, did every American home have a painting of Jesus In The Garden hanging on the wall? Me memory ain't what it used to be, you know.

The Tragically Hip - Up To Here

MCA Records: 1989

The world of Canadian rock was primed for a band like The Tragically Hip taking over its airwaves and hockey arenas. When they released their debut album in 1989, there wasn’t much in the way of competition. True, Bryan Adams was an international superstar, but aside from him, who were the Hip’s opposition? The age of Loverboy and Platinum Blonde was well on its way out by the end of the decade, and while Glass Tiger carried that ‘80s vibe a little longer, it definitely wasn’t a sound the alternative and college stations were anxiously pushing. Tom Cochrane & Red Rider had a few huge hits, but in typical Canadian Content fashion, was brutally overplayed (and still is). Rush was still around, though were by that point regarded as Legacy Musicians, not a group generating that New Hotness buzz. And of those up and comers that might compete with the Hip? Blue Rodeo quickly established themselves as band that might stick around, but what of the others? The Northern Pikes? Frozen Ghost? Haywire? The Jitters?? Pfft, like a band with a silly name like 54-40 would amount to anything.

Funny enough, all those groups were nominated for the Most Promising Group award at the Juno Awards (essentially the ‘rookie of the year’ trophy at Canada’s music gala), between 1987-1989. Bear in mind that The Tragically Hip was active since 1983, and released a seven-track self-titled EP in 1987 – the Junos should have been aware of them for all those shows. They did win that award, but in the year 1990, an astoundingly long time after-the-fact. For a band that would go on to be one of the most revered rock groups in Canadian history, one can’t help but chuckle at how overlooked they went in their early years. Maybe Canadians would have paid them more attention if Americans had?

Up To Here is about as strong an opening statement from an up-and-coming Canadian alternative rock band as you’ll likely ever hear. Right, the sample size is super-small, but considering some of the songs on here were live staples throughout the group’s history, they were clearly onto something long-lasting. How can one not be instantly sucked into small-town folksy charm with the opener Blow At High Dough, with the lyrics “They shot a movie once, in my home town; Everybody was in it, from miles around.”? The most famous tune off here, bluesy New Orleans Is Sinking, was often used as a testing point for new material, an extended mid-song jam session premiering future songs or letting lead-singer Gord Downie get his poetic muse on. Everything else ranges from acoustic ditties about escaped convicts (38 Years Old), to hard rockers about vengeful spouses (She Didn’t Know). You know, everyday people issues.

Like the band’s gestating popularity, Up To Here was a slow burner, garnering little chart action until the Hip properly blew up a few years later. It’s only their second album to gain Diamond status, and well deserved the wait.

The Velvet Underground - The Best Of The Velvet Underground (Words And Music Of Lou Reed)

Verve Records: 1989

Nearly everything you may adore or abhor about the alternative and indie side of rock music can be traced to this band. Making music that bucks the prevailing trends? Velvet Underground. Cultivating an impossibly hip image? Velvet Underground. An essential name-dropped when discussing one’s influences? Velvet Underground. Pretentious rock band fan-cult origins, that’s existed ever since rock music’s existed? I dunno, maybe Grateful Dead, but hoo boy, does Velvet Underground ever have their doozies too. Tab Lou Reed’s original band as anything less than “revolutionary”, and you’ll be met with scorn only seen in Tool’s ranks, with essays and essays of just how wrong your opinion is. Not that you’d understand them of course, the VU simply much too forward-thinking for mere Beatles or Stooges fans to comprehend, even a half-decade now since debuting with that kinda’-sorta’-maybe mediocre singing model Nico. But that was the Point, see, that underneath her natural beauty was a flawed, beautiful artistic creature, and Andy Warhol was a genius for forcing her upon Lou Reed to expose these blemishes within…

Wow, see what I mean?

The thing is, compared to other seminal bands of the ‘60s, Velvet Underground don’t even have that large a fanbase. Their albums barely charted (even when they did), and it took Lou Reed’s 2013 death to give their debut with Nico a respectable bump up their all-time standing (though the 2003 Deluxe version did pretty good in the UK). Even this particular Best Of collection, released in 1989, when the indie scene was on the rise and even sporting a little cross-over action, failed to chart. Yeah, but this is still the indie scene we’re dealing with, consisting of a passionate but disproportionate fanbase compared to the radio consuming plebs of the world.

And the VU indoctrinated wouldn’t have it any other way. This band became the sleeper sensation they did because of how far under the radar they initially flew. They hailed from New York City, when all the action in the rock world was happening in California and the UK. They made noisy dirges for a burnout generation years before the comedown had begun in earnest. Their music took recognizable signifiers of blues rock, psychedelia, and folk, but never fully embraced them to be pigeon-holed into those scenes. At a time when studio albums with the latest in production trickery were becoming the norm, these guys were rough and hideously unpolished, almost sounding like a literal garage band with decent talent but no budget. Others were making allegories to acid and marijuana, Reed bluntly sung about heroin. Yeah, small wonder so many point to Velvet Underground as a proto-punk band, a group proving you could make a name for yourself despite little being in your favor.

So yes, listening to The Best Of Velvet Underground, I do get why they’ve earned the legend, the mythos, and the storied inspiration for so many others. Just, y’know, don’t be a twat when going on about them, ‘kay?

Nine Inch Nails - Pretty Hate Machine

TVT Records: 1989

S’up, Nine Inch Nails? Remember when I went on a binge of your music a while back, nearly every month having a review for you? It’s been a year and a half since I last wrote about you though, and that flame I felt for Reznor’s vocals, dense industrial rock production, and album craftsmanship has dwindled some. Maybe it was only meant to be a brief flirtation anyway, as so many explorations outside one’s comfort zone go. I’ve no doubt I’ll return to The Downward Spiral and Ghosts I-IV at some point, but did I really need to indulge The Fragile? Perhaps not, but it was good for me at the time, so no regrets at this late point. And yet, after such a long dearth of NIN in my diet, I get to tempt my palette once more with the album that started it all, Pretty Hate Machine.

Hmm, it tastes… kinda’ plain? Oh dear, this really is a debut album, isn't it. I give Reznor all the credit in the world for persevering with his passion project, but it’s clear there’s quite a bit of musical growth ahead of him. The song-writing is rather straight-forward for industrial rock, though considering ol' Trent was helping define the genre at the time, that's not surprising. Still, it was Reznor's bold experimentation in the ensuing decade that intrigued me, and Pretty Hate Machine is in old-school mode, owing more to gothy new wave and early EBM than thrash metal and dense sonic manipulations. It’s a sound many, many, many others would emulate throughout the ‘90s (some undoubtedly inspired by Nine Inch Nails), so doesn’t come off as sonically amazing compared to Reznor’s later efforts. Plus, there’s a sense he’s still playing a bit with conventional rock song writing, mostly intent on getting his lyrics across with rhythms and melodies in service of them. Ah well, it’s better to learn the rules before you break them anyway (erm, even if industrial was all about breaking rules to begin with).

Honestly though, I'm more fascinated by the process Pretty Hate Machine came into being and the success that came with it. No matter your taste in music, you have to admire Reznor's gumption, creating his demos during studio downtime while working as a janitor. Then he settles on TVT Records to release it, a label that wasn’t known for much of anything beyond soundtracks and scores even then (though they did release The Timelords music too – maybe that’s what attracted Reznor to TVT?). Following that, a whole lot of underground buzz bloomed, Nine Inch Nails finding an audience with tech-savvy metalheads and the like who dug on those cold electronics with the guitar riffage and angsty singing. Soon enough, Pretty Hate Machine is hailed a classic, even though Reznor was quick to move on from it. It goes to show if you have the dedication, you can accomplish anything. Okay, it also doesn't hurt having something unique as your final product either.

Beastie Boys - Paul's Boutique

Capitol Records: 1989

Licensed To Ill is the Beastie Boys album you're supposed to have, even if you're not much of a Beastie Boys fan; or rather, if you're not much of a hip-hop fan. Those 808 beats were fine so long as thrashing guitars are right around the corner, and the Boys themselves were easy enough to follow as lyricists. It's a 'rawk' album in rap's clothing, and perfectly safe for unwilling strollers near urban music. However, if you do fancy yourself a proper hip-hop consumer, then Paul's Boutique is unquestionably the Beastie Boys album you're supposed to have, full-stop.

As is so often the case with these seminal records though, Paul's Boutique was a commercial dud compared to the Beastie's debut. Mind, it wasn't entirely their fault, many factors contributing to public indifference: losing the Def Jam deal, bringing on relative unknown producers called The Dust Brothers, gangsta rap becoming the new hotness, getting stereotyped as nothing more than a bunch of punk brats, going too artistically ambitious before the world of music was ready for it. God damn, 1989 was square.

The truth of the matter – and what everyone came to realize after the fact – was Paul’s Boutique took the concept of sample-heavy hip-hop to unprecedented levels. The Bomb Squad of Public Enemy were already doing crazy new things, but the Beastie-Dust dynamic strolled right back into hip-hop’s yard, dropped a flat of cardboard at everyone’s feet, and busted out the freshest moves on the scene, giving everyone notice that the game had officially been taken to the next level (wait, I’m getting my pillars mixed up). The album soon became an underground hit (lack of sales will do that), earning them the respect of hip-hop’s elite, and solidifying their status as rap artists of equal peer.

Paul’s Boutique’s also one of the finest ‘Americana’ records around. Obviously that’s in large part to the Dust Brothers’ liberal sampling, finding room for funk (Shake Your Rump, Car Thief, Hey Ladies), throwback 808-hop (High Plains Drifter), rock (Looking Down The Barrel Of The Gun), blues (To All The Girls), country hoe-down (5-Piece Chicken Dinner), goofball yokel nonsense (The Sounds Of Science), and movie scores (Egg Man). Okay, some of these are just samples, but it’s in there, making this album a collage of all the weird things you can find across the lower 49-States (Hawaiian folk music’s gotta’ be in there somewhere). Imagine browsing a mythical Paul’s Boutique pawn shop with all sorts of silly American cultural artefacts in crowded narrow aisles, located in the most meltingly pot of Brooklyn neighbourhoods. That’s what listening to this album is like.

Lyrically, the boys stepped up their game too (The Sounds Of Science invented nerdcore!), but they still find time for hitting on girls, carefree shenanigans and causing mischief. So if you’re one of those “only Licensed To Ill, yo” types, give this one a whirl too. How can you hate on a song about throwing eggs at people?

Neil Young - Freedom

Reprise Records: 1989

Even for my generation, I came to the Neil Young Wagon rather late. My first proper exposure was during his Harvest Moon period, when you couldn't escape that song's video on MuchMusic. For quite a few more of my demographic, however, they'd been hip to the old rocker since the late '80s, when they either learned of Young's initially banned-from-MTV video This Note's For You, or the rousing follow-up chart hit Rockin' In The Free World. I probably heard it at some point, but I was more into The Beach Boys in those years.

More so, Young was getting named dropped as a major influence by several up-and-coming alt-rock and grunge acts like Sonic Youth, The Pixies, and such. Growing inspired by this new legion of noise makers, ol' Neil dropped his current blues outfit and gathered a few chaps for a straight-up rock session, the results of which became the rare Eldorado EP, limited to only five-thousand copies and not sold in America. Da'fuq?

Oh well, most of those songs showed up on his next full-length, Freedom, and thank God they did, 'cause they're some of the most kick-ass music he’d made since the early '80s Crazy Horse album Re-Ac-Tor. Though his wonderful mess of noise occurs on songs On Broadway, No More, and Eldorado, Don’t Cry’s a real highlight for that sound, twice featuring a blistering wall of incredible distortion (having an industrial clank as part of the rhythm’s hilarious too!).

But Freedom wouldn’t have been considered a comeback album if it’d been a bunch of noisy rock. Young’s musical appeal was broad, many enjoying his folksy side along with forays into country and blues. This album has it all, which is a win-loss situation, depending on where you stand on such things. Me, I’m all for a little pleasant folk like Hangin’ On A Limb, plus the lengthy blues-rock Crime In The City’s great if you enjoy tales of everyday people (Eldorado’s awesome for this too, though obviously with more of a Mexican bent). Heck I don’t even mind the country tunes The Ways Of Love and Too Far Gone - Young’s about the only guy I can stand doing country, for some reason (probably because it’s Neil F’n Young). Unfortunately, two of his ballads - Someday and Wrecking Ball - are pants, especially so the former, coming off like an incredibly weak mid-‘80s country ditty (okay, not everything he does turns out). Really, the whole album has that “only in the ‘80s” production sheen to it, though not nearly as bad as many other releases of that decade.

So obviously I’d recommend Freedom if you’re looking to get acquainted with ol’ Neil, but aside from Rockin’ In The Free World, there aren’t any all-time classics on here. It’s probably more enjoyed after indulging in a greatest hits package or something, to find out if his style of music’s even your taste. While Freedom does have something for everyone, it’s unlikely everyone will enjoy it all.