New Order - Music Complete

Mute: 2015

Should I be doing a review of this? After all, covering the 'radio friendly' version of this album is rather redundant on my part. The 'extended mixes' of Complete Music are vastly superior to these cuts, even if they are fundamentally the same songs. And given the state of The Backlog That Won't Stop, coupled with my utter tardiness in keeping up with my blog this summer, can I even afford additional indulgences in what I'll commit fingers to keyboard on?

Probably, but damn, I feel New Order's presumptive swan-song deserves more flowers than it neglectfully got. And wouldn't you know it, we're practically nigh upon its tenth anniversary of release (September 25, 2015). No, I did not plan this out, but it's nice that my recent, lackadaisical attention to music writing turned out this coincidence of happenstance.

So why should you give Music Complete another chance, even if it doesn't sound exactly like their iconic '80s songs? How about the fact that this record even exists at all? It had been a decade prior when New Order had released their last album (Waiting For The Sirens' Call), and with the departure of Peter Hook, seemingly putting an end to the band. No one would have thought less of them if they'd rested on their laurels, maybe did some reunion tours playing out the old hits, fading off into the sunset. They certainly didn't need to hit the studio again, missing one of their key members from their earliest days. And even if they did, no one would have batted an eye if whatever resulted from those sessions was just acceptable at best, music that was serviceable but hardly a touch on their best work.

They especially didn't need to make one of the best records in their whole dang discography. But they did.

Dang, maybe that's why they haven't been back to the studio since. Whatever creative spark and serendipitous synergy that resulted in Music Complete (not to mention Complete Music!) simply couldn't be recreated, so why even try? New Order made their 'statement' album, that even after all that time, they still had enough mojo to knock it out of the park. What better way to put a capper on a career than with a near-perfect high note, rather than struggling to maintain that momentum long after. Hmm, sounds weirdly prescient, for some reason...

Anyhow, no need to go into actual music details again, since I already covered that in Complete Music. This 'review' is really just a friendly reminder that, hey, one of New Order's best albums does exist, and it's totally contemporary in style and sound. If you'd rather take it in as shorter, manageable chunks as heard in Music Complete rather than lengthier excursions, that's completely fair. Just don't be surprised if you start jonesing for those more. After all, when the good times are this good, you want them to last as long as possible.

Nelly Furtado - Folklore

Dreamworks: 2003

You namedrop one Canadian pop singer, and the CanCon Commission comes knocking at your door. “How come you're reviewing a Japanese pop starlet, but not one of our own?” they ask. Look, chaps, I think I've been quite fair in my mandatory Canadian content. Why, I've even given two hip-hop acts that aren't Drake some shine here. Besides, R&B and pop really isn't my area of expertise, so...

“Nope, you're reviewing at least Nelly Furtado's first three albums, and if not, we're sending you to the Ellef Ringnes Island gulag.”

(Disclaimer: re-enactment – may or may not have really happened!)

Nelly Furtado was undoubtedly one of my country's biggest stars at the turn of the century. Not only popular enough to go multi-platinum on her debut, but managed to re-invent herself into a damn phenomenon, truly becoming a global star. By alphabetical decree, however, I'm starting with the record between those two flashpoints, the so-called sophomore slump of Folklore. Aww, c'mon, guys, it ain't that bad, really.

Following her breakout, however, she was something of an in-demand vocalist. Paul Oakenfold tapped her. Swollen Members tapped her (at the height of their popularity, no less). For most though, it was appearing on the remix of Missy Elliot's Get Ur Freak On that showed and proved she wasn't some one-hit wonder. That Nelly could hang with the pop world elite. Logic dictated that she should pursue that particular audience, maybe even work with Timbaland in an official capacity. Instead, she stuck with her original production crew (alt-rockers Philosopher Kings alum Brian West and Gerald Eaton) for an album that's, well, diverse, if nothing else.

There's no denying the album sounds big and bold, unafraid to toss whatever influence strikes Nelly's interest into the pot. Opener One-Trick Pony has a bit of folksy twang, follow-up Powerless throws in more Mediterranean influences (gotta' show those Portuguese roots), Explode aims for something more clubby with brisk rhythms and heavier low-ends, and Try... ah, there's the radio-friendly adult contemporary song I've heard for the last two decades.

All well and good, but I get why regular folks may not have connected with all the genre dalliances, especially when few offer quite the earworms Ms. Furtado had sang before. C'mon though, how can you not get a silly grin on your face hearing her crack up on the blues singalong Saturdays with Jarvis Church?

Sykonee's 'Sportsing' Surveys: BOOM BOOM SATELLITES

While going through Tipper's discography, someone on Mastodon mentioned this group as a similar sounding act when it came to complex, nu-skool breaks production. I was shocked in not knowing of them, having been subjected to a lot of nu-skool back when it was so cool. Yet here was a duo that had been around since the genre's heyday, going strong for well over a decade, even getting their start on famed techno label R & S Records. They'd rubbed shoulders with D'n'B luminaries like Optical and Klute, been playlisted by the likes of Carl Cox and Ken Ishii, and apparently even toured with Moby for a spell. Not to mention getting soundtracked on a few anime and video games. Ah, hmm, maybe that's the issue there.

Despite breaking out in a decidedly European rave scene, and even adopting some American industrial rock aesthetics, they couldn't shake their inherent Japanese style, and were forever doomed to only remain big in their home country – a grammatically confounding name likely didn't help. Perhaps that was all they ever needed for a satisfying career, but that shouldn't relegate them to global obscurity. Even sadder, they had to prematurely cut whatever promise they had when band member Michiyuki Kawashima died from brain tumours.

For my own curiosity's sake, then, I needed to hear more from them. Might there be a culture barrier to overcome, as with some of the other Japanese material I've covered here? Possibly, probably, but I won't know until I dive in, will I?










As an addendum, there was something interesting I noticed from my streams off Deezer. Every time I finished listening to an album, tracks from that record would then feature on the band's Top Tracks list. That leads me to believe one of two things: either Boom Boom Satellite's popularity has fallen off so bad that my streaming of them was the only plays they received, or no one in Japan knows what Deezer is. Probably the latter, the streaming service more a European one, and lacking the global clout a Spotify or Apple Music has earned (or does Japan have their own major music app? Wouldn't surprise me).

Still, I can't help but wonder if this group truly are now destined to utterly disappear abroad. For sure they'll retain some fanbase in their homeland, but hopes of a new audience re-discovering them is unfortunately likely to diminish as time wears on. Whatever mark they made upon the turn of the century breaks scene seems mostly forgotten now, and the rock world certainly paid them little heed. I do think they deserve some attention for their production chops, but whether they'll click for you is likely entirely up to a listener's preferences.

Sykonee's 'Sportsing' Surveys: KILLING JOKE

I've long admired Youth's work with The Orb, and have even checked out one or two of his other projects, but never the one where he got his start: Killing Joke. I know very little about this band, beyond being one of those Very Influential ones of the '80s, often name-dropped by many big-league players of alternative rock. I felt like I should check them out at some point but wasn't sure if they'd even be my jam, way outside whatever expectations I had for supposed post-punk pioneers. Then again, isn't the whole point of doing these discography dives while demolishing my deltoids to discover music I'd never give a chance otherwise? Most definitely it is, and what better way of truly getting outside my comfort zones than engaging a band while my heart rate and adrenaline are operating at peak proficiency. I mean, it works for dance music, so why not some noisy proto-industrial rock too? So let's get into the epic, oh-my-God how is this band still existing? discography of Killing Joke!





























Another survey that took much longer than I was anticipating. It was an interesting one, and I've come away from it with an appreciation for this band's accomplishments. Aside from a select few songs though (plus that psy dub remix album), there isn't much here I'm eagre to rush out and buy proper-like. Maybe if I find an album or two on the cheap, sure, but for the most part, their style is just a tad too caustic for my regular listening habits. There's only so much aggro rock I make room for these days. At least I feel more sorted for whenever I take a deeper dive into Youth's larger body of work.

Anyhow, I'm sure folks reading this on an electronic music blog prefer it when I stick to electronic music acts, so my next survey will be on one of its most successful artists: Norman Cook. ALL projects!

Various - Choose 80's

Mercury: 1997

At first glance, this appears nothing more than what it is, another compilation capitalizing on '80s revival from the turn of the century. I certainly thought so, or at least was my recollection of it when I got it from a co-worker's bundle of CDs. For sure I remember it as an item in the little music shop I worked at for a time, and maybe even saw a TV ad on the national music station. Still, something kinda' tugged at me about Choose 80's, like I was forgetting a couple quirky details about it that would reveal themselves when I finally (finally!) reviewed it proper-like.

For instance, this CD actually pre-dates the '80s revival by a few years. Yeah, 1997 may not seem that for removed from the year 2000, but trust me, resurrecting the decade of new wave and synth-pop was furthest from the minds of most label heads. They undoubtedly had a potential retro market in mind at some point in the future, but were making far too much jack from way '90s music like alt-rock, club thug rap, R&B, and 'electronica' to pull the trigger. There wasn't much nostalgic interest in '80s music from Johnny and Jane Q Public yet, so little need to dust anything off in a label's archives.

Yet something encouraged Mercury to go forward with this compilation just the same. For the longest time, I couldn't recall why – it certainly wasn't because they were ahead of the retro curve. No, something else, something that had to be buzzing in pop culture that would send casual consumers en masse to buy a copy. Was it that Da Da Da track from Trio? There was a charming Jetta commercial that used it, the sort of thing that would get people rushing to a music store asking about “that song in that car commercial” (known as the Mitsubishi Effect in later years). What year did that come out anyway? Well by jove, 1997. Yep, that's all it would take for a compilation like this to hit the shelves. Just get a bunch of other '80s hits from the Mercury/Polytel archives, and voila, capitalization on a hit commercial. It's how we memed back in the '90s.

That solved, what's even on Choose 80's that's worth talking about? Lots of familiar names with familiar tunes (Yello, New Order, The Buggles), others digging a little deeper into discographies (Tears For Fears, Iggy Pop, R.E.M.). Post-punk and new wavers get a lot of representation, some I've heard of (Violent Femmes, The Jam, ABC), some I only know by ear (Shriekback, Level 42, Split Enz, Black (2)). One song I never realized came from the '80s is Squeeze's Pulling Mussels, sounding like a '90s alt-rock jangle that'd be featured in a third-rate sitcom.

One final oddity before the wrap. Choose 80's is fine for a nineteen-track collection of adventurous new wave and quirky synth-pop, but does it ever reek of sausage too. It's like women musicians never existed that decade.

VAST - Visual Audio Sensory Theater

Elektra: 1998

(a Patreon Request from Philoi)

I feel like I should know this album. Maybe not so much who the band is or what music is in it, but just the cover art alone. It's rather striking, the sort of eye-catching image that leaps out at you from store shelves, locking you in pupil-to-pupil, soul-to-soul. Okay, not that deep, but plenty 'nuff to grab wandering gazes in for a closer look. I never saw it though, and believe me, I was in prime territory to have spotted it somewhere in Vancouver shops when it first dropped. Did it languish in obscurity at first, only gaining notoriety once songs started getting featured in shows like Angel and Smallville?

But that's neither here nor there, as I usually like going into these albums as cold as possible, my initial impressions as pure as freshly fallen snow. And initial impressions sure had me transported back to the late '90s, opening song Here having heavy emphasis on industrial-grade rhythms, crunchy guitars, orchestral swells, and angst-ridden singing. This is the sort of stuff that, while I wouldn't say was popular, had more than enough grandiose production behind that it could get popular, if it got featured in the right movies or TV shows. Which is apparently what happened, after a while.

So I continue listening through VAST's self-titled debut (that is what 'VAST' stands for, right?), and I'm hearing an interesting mix of alternative rock, industrial production, and world music – so many looping Gregorian chant samples, I almost think I'm back in a rasion d'être album. And as is my tendency when listening to a new artist, my inclination towards comparison of other acts I'm familiar with begins. The one that first pops in my mind is Canadian band The Tea Party, who blended industrial and alt-rock as well, though that may be entirely due to the track Three Doors, which uses Arabic scales much like The Tea Party often did.

That's not quite right though. The Tea Party is a three-piece, where each member was part and parcel to the ensemble. Despite the expert production on Visual Audio Sensory Theater, I couldn't help but feel the songwriting was rather singular. Like, a Trent Reznor sort of deal, the music the vision of one man, with band members in support. Turns out that was absolutely the case, Jon Crosby the main mind behind VAST, and I'm far from the only person to make the Trent Reznor comparison. I just find it funny that I came to that shared conclusion before reading anything about it.

Does this put this album on the same plane as, say, The Fragile? Eh, not really. Though the NIN comparison is inevitable, Crosby isn't quite at the level at Reznor, especially in vocal delivery. It sometimes felt like he was struggling to reach the same level of angst ol' Trent effortlessly achieves. That leaves me with an album that sounds 'good enough', but not something I'm anxious for another playthrough anytime soon.

Oasis - Be Here Now

Epic: 1997

The history of how Be Here Now deep-sixed the Manchester band's good graces has been well documented. I'm not adding anything by reiterating what others have detailed before. For my money, Todd In The Shadows' video essay on the subject does it best, and I'm not just saying that because I'm a Patreon supporter of his. Okay, I kinda' am – that's literally the point of Patreon – but it is quite in-depth in all the things you'd want to learn about this 'trainrecord'. My pride wouldn't be wounded in the slightest if you close this tab right now and wander out in search for it. I'd provide the link but, eh, you know how flakey YouTube links get over time.

So expectations are already low for yours truly going in – no one would point to this album as the one you're supposed to have, even if you're not an Oasis fan (the first album, definitely maybe?) - but there's a sense of freedom in that. I don't have to worry about forming a consensus opinion or forcing myself to hear a true genius all the haters refuse to acknowledge, or some such. If I happen to like something, that's cool, but I'm not obligated to either. And that chorus for D'You Know What I Mean?, I like that chorus, enough that it's still sloshing about my brain long after I want it to. And as an opener to an album known for its studio excess, it's certainly quite the omen for what's to come. If you're already feeling fatigued by the end of this track's seven-plus minute run-time it doesn't bode well for the rest of Be Here Now.

Much has been said about this album's lo-o-o-o-ong songs, and as this CD plays out, I find it isn't so much their run-time that's the issue, but just how aurally exhausting it all is. By cramming in so many instruments and so many sounds trying to outdo Morning Glory's wall-of-noise production, you can barely make heads or tails of anything in play: guitars and drums and vocals and keyboards orchestras and sound effects all fighting to get in front of one another for your attention. You're mentally tapped out of each tune by the three minute mark, but then they keep going for two, three, sometimes six minutes longer! And the songs aren't all that dissimilar from each other either – felt like they kept trying to redo Champagne Supernova over and over – so you've basically heard all that you need to after a couple tracks.

Then there's All Around The World, as blatant an attempt at a Hey Jude moment in the the band's discography as you'll ever hear. Fair play, as the Beatles nods were always part of Oasis' hook. If I was to imagine a parody of over-the-top Brit rock bombast however (complete with an outro reprise!), this is about how it would come off. No surprise the Brothers Gallagher got there all on their own.

ACE TRACKS: October 2019

I never realized just how addicted I've become to the sun now, at least to feel even the slightest bit productive. It wasn't such a big deal before, as my work schedule always left me with some remaining Sol energy in the day. Now though, with me working a more 'traditional' 9-5 shift, I'm getting home, it's grown dark (if not already dark), and my will power to do anything productive is gone, man, just gone.

Not that there aren't other factors that impede my ability to do much of anything in the evening hours (damn you, Neebs Gaming, and your addictive Cinematic Gameplay videos!), but unlike the summer months, where I could still crank something out before 9pm, my mind totally checks out come 6pm now. Guess it's back to the ultra-early rises to get my writing done then. That seemed to work quite well for me this past winter. Leave me an hour to get in a morning swim too. In the meanwhile, here's the ACE TRACKS for the month of October:


Full track list here.


MISSING ALBUMS:
The Winterhouse - Winter Gardens
Convextion - 2845
Emiliana Torrini - Love In The Time Of Science

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 0%
Percentage Of Rock: 14%
Most “WTF?” Track: The noisiest outing from Ringo Sheena.

Lots of Phantogram and Ringo Sheena, obviously, what with Patreon Requests eating up a bulk of my review time this past month (the Sheena ones were long overdue requests). Why, you'd almost forget there's things like house, techno, and ambient in here too. Tracks arranged alphabetically, it seems most of the tracks still bunched up together by artist. Huh, my whole deal in doing it my way is to break up the potential monotony of hearing the same artist over and over. Something screwy is afoot this past month, methinks.

Ringo Sheena - Shōso Strip

Virgin: 2000

(a Patreon Request from Philoi)

I think we all have to come to grips that I'm woefully unqualified to talk about Japanese pop music with any sort of authoritative perspective. Yeah, I can appreciate, and even enjoy it, at a basic, superficial aesthetic level (sounds do good things on brain, me likey!), but I've no real insights or analysis to provide from the experience. Beyond what a couple Wiki links of information can offer (y'know, collegiate level research), there's very little I can explore or detail regarding the cultural impact of such music.

Like, I can get proper-deep regarding rave music, as I've been part of, digested, consumed, and researched nearly all facets of it for a quarter of a century now (a significant portion of my life indeed). And while I've covered other music genres or scenes I'm not so involved with (your alternative rock, your jazz-bop, your country twang), they're at least still prevalent enough in my sphere of the globe that I know enough about them via cultural osmosis. It's incredibly rare that mass market music from other (non English-speaking) artists ever had much impact here, no matter how successful they may have been elsewhere.

It's almost entirely thanks to the power of global social media that we've started seeing actual cultural cross-over in the Americas from the mega-stars of Japan and Korea. Even as I type this, my localized Twitter feed is blowing up about Wonho leaving MONSTA X (everything else is Halloween stuff). Let's face it, a newer, younger generation has discovered something they know their parents just won't understand. What better rebel music than music that's not even Caucasian, amirite? Nah, guy, there's just a lot of East Asian transplants in Vancouver.

Anyhow, Ringo Sheena (or Shiina Ringo, if you're Discoggian) turned quite a few heads upon her debut, a teenage wonder-kid who fused noisy Western rock with noisy Japanese rock, presented in that spiffy, over-the-top j-pop stylee everyone just thinks all Japanese pop music sounds like. Sales proved her a potential break-out star that could possibly make it big overseas, thus was immediately signed to the mighty Virgin empire, the quick follow-up Shōso Strip the result.

Almost too quickly, apparently, as the budding star felt the tracklist was too similar to her debut. I can dig that, as I felt like I was listening to Muzai Moratorium all over again with this one. Yeah, there's a few additional wrinkles here and there (ooh, techno thump-thumps in 浴室) and the song-writing comes off more polished than the first – the chaotic production is focused and targeted. Yet I still had to double-check I was listening to the correct album a couple times, unsure whether it was the first or second (didn't help my digital player couldn't convert kanji properly).

And sadly, I can't give any deeper analysis than that. As mentioned, I simply don't connect to this music beyond the superficial. Y'all would be better served listening to the Spotify link for your own conclusions.

Ringo Sheena - Muzai Moratorium

Eastworld: 1999

(a Patreon Request from Philoi)

Even for some of the items that are well outside my wheelhouse, this one's practically lost over the horizon from my usual vantage point. Sure, I've touched upon J-pop plenty of times, but much of that has lineage from Western music, so it's not much of a leap for me to wax the bull about such releases on a purely 'dumb' level. Even the scant offerings of Japanese alternative rock I've covered at least borrows elements of shoegazey indie, which has enough ties to some forms of electronic music that I could at least bluff my way through it. And while I don't go out of my way to play much Western alternative rock for myself, I can't help but absorb it through cultural osmosis no matter where I live on this continent. Like, even the most back-ass, evangelical hubs, where they listen to nothing but gospel and Christian music – there's always a Christian version of alternative rock music.

J-pop grunge though? I don't know where to begin with this. Never would I have thought the brick-walled racket of Nirvana and Stone Temple Pilots could merge with Japanese vocals. Even the nation's version of screechy noise-punk makes more sense to me than this, the Japanese famous for taking Western ideas to absurdist, extreme levels.

I suppose I can at least start with who Ringo Sheena is, though I admit I'm doing nothing more than reiterating Wikipedia talking points here. Yes, I am once again dealing with a Japanese artist/musician/song-writer that is super-huge in their native homeland, but has almost no market penetration where I'm from. Or maybe a little bit, seeing as how I reside on the Pacific Rim and all. Surely a Japanaese star with two decades under her belt has a fanbase in Vancouver, especially with a major, global label backing her.

That's getting a little ahead of myself though. We're here with her debut Muzai Moratorium (aka: Innocence Moratorium; aka: 無罪モラトリアム), released on stalwart Japanese print Eastworld, which she apparently wrote and released while still a teenager. Well, in Japanese terms, that's not that impressive, what with their teen demographic often called upon to save the city/nation/universe (sorry, couldn't resist that one).

Seriously though, it's quite remarkable the amount of diversity on display here. Yeah, there's the pure noisy-rock turns (A View Of Happiness, Caution, Playing With Blocks, Kiss Me), but also stabs at ragtime (Queen Of Kabuki-cho, Marunouchi Sadistic) and j-pop balladry (Sid & Daydreams, Ordinary Night, Morphine), with assorted sprinklings of other genres littered throughout. 'Orient-techno' inPlaying With Blocks, discordant orchestras in Ordinary Night, etc.

Despite the level of production involved, Muzai Moratorium has quite the 'garage-rock' sheen to it, such that everything's rather bricked when listening to it. Half the time, I can't even make out Ringo's lyrics, even the English ones. Still, impressive use of rolling 'R's. I didn't know the Japanese could even do that!

Alice In Chains - Alice In Chains

Columbia: 1995

Of the Big Four Of Grunge, I know the least about Alice In Chains. I'm sure I heard them in music video rotation and soundtracks, as you couldn't escape the grunge movement growing up a teenager of the Gen-X variety. Compared to the ubiquitous presence of Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and Soundgarden, however, Alice In Chains somehow slipped me by. I always saw Nevermind, Ten and Superunknown on store shelves and within peers' CD collections, but I can't recall spotting Dirt among them. Maybe I didn't know what to look for, what tunes I should have noticed on their mixtapes, but fact remains for much of grunge's peak, I only knew Alice In Chains in name only, as yet another band that the rock world seemed to really like. Them and Blind Melon.

Hell, even when this particular album dropped, with cover art you couldn't turn away from if you tried, it still took me a while to clue in it was an Alice In Chains record. Like, weren't they pioneers of the Grunge Tree or something? Then again, Live kinda' made the Grunge Tree a joke, so I can understand why they'd not want anything to do with it. Instead, let's get a photo of a poor three-legged canine, and on the flip, feature a three-legged human! Nice way of showing how having too little and too much of something (in this case, legs) can be an impediment to one's existence.

Right, time to get into music discussion, and I'm afraid this is about where I'll lose all those AiC fans. As said, my knowledge of the band is extremely slight, even with their biggest hits. This self-titled third album did hit the top spot on on the Billboard 200, but I don't recall hearing much of anything from it when it was new, much less compared to their earlier work. I can only offer my thoughts on how it sounds to these virgin ears in the here and now.

And boy, is this ever one sludgy, grungy sounding album. I know the genre had moved on from its original form by '95, but AiC do a good job keeping the bleak tone intact, despite an ever increasingly optimistic decade (drug problems help). There really isn't much in the way of hooks or melodies, everything a dank, dour, atonal thrum of guitar distortion and Layne Staley's depressive vocals. Anything that does leap out is usually on the bass end, like the heavy rhythm stomp of Sludge Factory and God Am. Some kick the tempo up (So Close, Head Creeps) but for the most part, we're trawling through the Seattle murk.

I actually find the atonal nature of this album addictive, like a comforting glumness I want to explore further. Sit back with headphones, the layers of distortion overwhelming, and peel them back, finding the golden goo underneath. Alice In Chains may not catch my attention so readily as other rock, but it does keep luring me back for another spin.

Oasis - (What's The Story) Morning Glory?

Epic: 1995

The only Oasis album you probably have, even if you're not an Oasis fan. Not to say their other albums weren't super-popular and mega-sellers, but (What's The Story) Morning Glory? absolutely trounces its discographic neighbours many times over. Heck, their debut album Definitely Maybe didn't even chart here in Canada. It did eventually reach Platinum sales though, riding the coattails of Morning Glory, which hit number one with a bullet, and Top 10 nearly everywhere else in the world. It even reached fifth on the Zimbabwean Albums Chart – I didn't even know Zimbabwe had such charts!

Now the obligatory, not-shocking truth-bomb from yours truly: this is the first time I've ever sat down to hear Morning Glory in full. Yeah, I know, big surprise that one of the biggest rock albums of the '90s featuring some of the most overplayed radio singles ever passed me by when 'techno' was my calling card. It's not like my teenage years weren't already spent hearing half this album everywhere I went. Wonderwall was inescapable. Champagne Supernova was inescapable (because ain't nothing more appealing to teenagers than singing about getting high). Don't Look Back In Anger was inescapable. I think I escaped Some Might Say though, having only vague recollections of hearing it in the past. Still, the utter omnipresence of Oasis quickly led me to Britpop rock fatigue, so odds of me hearing a whole album of music from the band cratered fast and hard. Damn, I even blame them for my continued avoidance of The Chemical Brothers' Dig Your Own Hole, because like Hell I wanna' hear a Gallagher going on about setting suns in my 'techno', yo'.

We're two decades removed from OasisMania though, so maybe now I can appreciate these songs with a fresh perspective, without those hummable choruses ingrained like nails upon my brain. And aside from Wonderwall, I do dig these jams. The songcraft on display is unquestionably worthy of the hype, to say nothing of how it inspired British rock's demand for big, emotional anthems that go down well at music festivals. Liam's vocals really pop, Noel's guitar leads hook and glide you along, and everything else... kinda' mushes into a big wall-of-noise assault.

Was Morning Glory always so brick-walled in the mastering? I never noticed it when hearing the singles on the radio or the TV, but it's unmistakable now that I'm paying attention to the album proper-like. Apparently this was a big issue at the time, audiophiles complaining about the lack of dynamics for a major record such as this. The producer, Owen Morris, admits to mastering in such a manner, as much a result of inexperience in the studio as his shying away from “posh production values”. I can't say it's a deal-breaker in enjoying this album – the melodic leads remain the focal points, as they should – but it's weird saying Morning Glory is best experienced played in the background, ignoring nuances you couldn't pick out if you tried.

The Prodigy - The Dirtchamber Sessions Volume One

XL Recordings: 1999

DJ mixes were proving rather bankable at the end of the '90s, some shifting equal numbers of units as LPs from established artists. Well shit, son, a few of those established artists were DJs before they made it big with their original productions. Wouldn't hurt to put out a mix or two while between albums, keep the brand out there, maybe drop a little music knowledge on unsuspecting crossover fans in the process. Actually, I don't think that worked. While working at a music shop when such mixes came out, every time a curious costumer only familiar with the radio hits would sample one, they couldn't figure out why there were so many songs all mashed together - they didn't even sound like the radio hits in the first place. (every. time.)

For those more boned up on rave culture, DJ culture, and trainspotting culture though, such mixes were fun items to indulge in. A chance to revisit history, hear the origins of famous samples, discover the influences of a current crop of stars, and be reminded that big acts like The Chemical Brothers and The Prodigy had more in their arsenal than a knack for a catchy hook and a beefy beat.

The Dirtchamber Sessions was Liam Howlett's stab at a commercial DJ mix, and is as much a study in everything that created his unique brand of brash, bold dance music. Having come up through the sample-heavy era of DJing, laying out a dozen tunes in a computer-perfect sequence just wouldn't do for him either. There are forty-nine tracks listed in the credits, some barely twenty second snippets, all ranging from classic rave, vintage rap, bratty punk, and Madchester rock. Plus a Barry White tune lodged between Beastie Boys and Public Enemy, because why not?

There's also Bomb The Bass, Jane's Addiction, Frankie Bones, Sex Pistols, Meat Beat Manifesto, Herbie Hancock, James Brown, Ultramagnetic MCs (gotta' get in those Kool Keith verses), Digital Underground, Primal Scream, Renegade Soundwave, LL Cool J, T La Rock, KRS One, and loads more I'm not familiar with. Plus don't forget newer cats like Fatboy Slim, Propellerheads, and London Funk Allstars. The one that threw me for a loop though, was The KLF's What Time Is Love? - at that point I only knew them for their anthem house hits off The White Room. Of course the anti-establishment manifesto of Cauty and Drummond would be something Howlett would relate to, but all I thought was, “wow, never thought I'd hear such a commercial tune in a mix like this.”

As the above attests to, the tracklist is hectic and eclectic, with tons of mash-ups and quick mixes keeping the pace going. The Dirtchamber Sessions is also surprisingly short, not even forty-three minutes long. No sense blowing one's load in a Volume 1 I guess, but we never got a Volume 2. Might be interesting to hear a 'post-Millennium' follow-up, though I can't imagine it containing as dope of tracks as found here.

U2 - War

Island Records: 1983

War, hah! What's it good for? Giving a budding Irish band the proper break-out they needed, is what. They'd already made oscillations in new wave circles with their debut Boy and follow-up October, but it was their third album that we hear the germination of what most consider the definitive U2 stylee. Arena rock anthems, political issues... um, wait, something's missing here. Oh yeah, that Eno touch. Right, the true definitive, universally adored sound of U2 didn't manifest itself until subsequent albums, but there's a contingent of O.G. U2 fan-Zs that claim Brian and Daniel Lanois ruined what had been a promising raw alternative rock band. That, if you want to experience Bono, The Edge, Adam, and Mullen (the cute one!) at their honest, roughest best... you should probably go with Boy.

But hey, War was still a Steve Lillywhite produced album, so not quite as arty as Eno would go; besides, they'd already tried that with October. War instead finds the band returning to a purer rock approach – it was only appropriate for such a heavy, politically-driven topic, getting their music into the knit and grit of conflict and the aftermath's ugliness. Plus, just in case you figured they might be going for something more abstract or glorified in selling the notion of war, they used a similarly posed photo of Peter Rowen on the cover, except now replacing the innocent boy of Boy with a stern, aged glower, suggesting the human cost of senseless struggle.

The band doesn't pull its punches either, opening the album with the strident, military march of Sunday Bloody Sunday, a song about the Bogside Massacre, where over a dozen civilian Irish protesters were killed by British soldiers, many more injured. Add in a wailing violin and Bono's harrowing cries of “I can't close my eyes; And make it go away”, and you've a song that definitely sticks in your memory.

It's the lead single though, New Year's Day, that really gave U2 their distinct panache for arena rock. That instantly memorable piano line, the propulsive bass, the jangly guitar work, and Bono's wailing – you can't think of U2 without thinking of this song, even if you don't realize it's from the War album. I sure didn't, the echo, reverb, and polished production having me think it latter-'80s U2 for the longest time.

A criticism often levied upon War is that the remaining eight songs don't reach the same highs as Sunday Bloody Sunday and New Year's Day, especially dragging in the back-half. Can't deny that, though they're by no means weak songs either. Two Hearts Beat As One and Like A Song... are strong rockers, Drowning Man features more soul-tugging violin work, The Refugee sounds like something The Police might have wrote, and Surrender climbs close to the same lofty peaks of New Year's Day. It all makes for a strong rock album, but if you come to U2 for their artistic dalliances, perhaps a little one-note overall.

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 Tragically Hip - Trouble At The Henhouse

MCA Records: 1996

We always assumed they’d be around, consistently making affable alternative rock for the bars and the hockey stadiums and the mega-Canadian events. They’re like that reliable Mom-N-Pop deli shop in your neighborhood that could make a perfect pea and bacon soup, or sports store that still sold that one brand of curling broom. You never needed them in your life, but somehow felt enriched by having The Tragically Hip there, something to return to whenever the Want presented itself. And upon hearing of lead singer Gordon Downie’s terminal brain cancer, and how The Hip’s current tour would be their last with him, every Canadian suddenly found themselves in want of returning to the band’s music. Even those who’d only had passing interest (*cough*) tuned in for their final performance together in Kingston, Ontario. While it’s entirely possible The Hip could carry on as a band without Downie, it’s difficult imagining so, the man such an integral part of what made The Hip who they were. Without those poetic tales of common clay under unusual circumstances, they’d never have wooed such a large swath of Canadians finding some connection within their songs.

See, this is what I’m writing about. Who really cares about this singular, twenty year old album of The Tragically Hip when this band that so many of my countrymen adore may have just played their last ever concert! It overshadows everything else in the here-and-now, unlike way back in Spring 2014 (!) when I wrote my first couple reviews of them. I’ll give it the ol’ college try though.

Trouble At The Henhouse was the follow-up to their most critically acclaimed record, Day For Night. The band was probably at the peak of their popularity by the mid-‘90s, and this album quickly capitalized on that, scoring them one of their only Number One hits in this country with lead single Ahead By A Century. Yeah, funny thing about The Hip is, while their LPs typically did gang-busters on the Canadian charts, the singles seldom ever cracked Top 10. Anyway, it’s easy to hear why Ahead By A Century would finally do the damage, a pleasant folksy ditty with a heavier bridge near the end, and instantly catchy lyrics like “And that’s when the hornet stung me; And I had a feverish dream.” The song that always catches my ears though, is Butts Wigglin, though probably entirely due to its use in the Kids In The Hall movie, Brain Candy. (and, um, that title)

Quite a few songs off this album made the rounds on Canadian radio (Gift Shop, Springtime In Vienna, Flamenco), while others get heavier (Coconut Cream, Let’s Stay Engaged) or bluesy (Sherpa, Put It Off). Trouble At The Henhouse doesn’t really offer much new from The Hip though, and the band would start a very long slide into MOR rock territory after this. Enough memorable tunes lurk here that it’s still in discussion as Essential Hip, but probably the least as such from their ‘90s heyday.

ACE TRACKS: June 2016

Guess what! I’ve reached the ‘Tr’s of my epic, endless journey through music I own, so you know what that means: it’s time to kick off a Summer Of Trance! Okay, ‘summer’ is pushing it some, but at least a July’s worth, especially if we include items through ‘trans’. Finally though, all of my trancecracker glories and fails will come to light, everything I own that’s trance. Except for the releases that started with ‘Goa’ or ‘Psy’. And all those In Trance We Trust mixes too, I guess. Plus anything that had ‘trance’ in its title, just not the start, come to think of it. Hell, even some releases that didn’t have ‘trance’ at all, like A Day On Our Planet or Dreamland or Ideas From the Pond or Rendezvous In Outer Space. Fine, this upcoming bundle of trance is but a fraction of the total amount floating about my stores of CDs. Trust me though, after a month of this, you’ll be begging for variety. Gangsta rap, psychedelic rock, minimal derp-haus, anything! Or hey, whatever’s on this ACE TRACKS playlist for June 2016. Yes, nailed the segueway!



Full track list here.


MISSING ALBUMS:
Various - Toronto Mix Sessions: Kenny Glasgow
Various - Trade: Past Present Future

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 2%
Percentage of Rock: 34%
Most “WTF?” Track: The Archies - Sugar, Sugar (how do I suddenly have diabetes after listening to this song!?? …but seriously, another Dronny Darko piece is the answer)

Not quite as eclectic as these past couple months, as I mostly spent June wrapping up backlog before carrying on with ‘T’ albums. Heavier on the folky, alternative, and indie rock than anything else, but also got into familiar territory again with trip-hop, d’n’b, techno, and Neil Young. Really not much else to say about this playlist, because TRANCE is coming, man! TRANCE!

Live - Secret Samadhi

Radioactive: 1997

Oh my God, I’m actually starting to like Live. Now I feel bad for every lame, clichéd punch-line I’ve ever delivered in their direction. You know how they typically go: “that band that everyone loved but can’t remember any reason why”; or “you know you’re from the ‘90s if you have Throwing Copper among your CDs”; or “oh yeah, Live, they had that big hit December, right? Or was that Push?” (sorry, Canadian joke). Maybe it’s because I never realized they shared so many similarities to national treasures The Tragically Hip, though it’s not like I delved deeply into their discography either. And even when I took on Throwing Copper, it essentially confirmed what I always felt Live was: a solid enough alternative rock band, fully deserving of their success but not one I thought capable of exceeding that commercial peak.

And Secret Samadhi oblitera- no, not quite; forced a reassessment of my initial assumptions, yes let’s go with that. I figured Live’s third album would carry on from Throwing Copper, the band daring not to mess with the sure thing they’d generated for themselves. I’m sure tons of folks figured that too, the record hitting top of the Billboard before being unceremoniously knocked out a week after by the Howard Stern movie soundtrack. Perhaps it couldn’t be helped, their breakout record one of the slowest burners the world of rock had ever seen. Whatever enthusiasm folks had for Live in those glorious mid-‘90s times would have waned as other new hotness emerged. But hey, Secret Samadhi did knock No Doubt’s Tragic Kingdom from its long perch atop Canadian charts, so good on that.

Generally speaking, Secret Samadhi is more of the same Live stylee, but evolving just enough for a stronger outing than before. Yes, I feel this record is better than Throwing Copper, delving into ‘post-grunge’ form without getting too slick about it, nicely selling a ‘bar band with a budget’ vibe. Sure, there’s an orchestra backing a couple tracks, and they have plenty studio polish at their disposal, but nothing is overdone or varnished into blandness as so much mega-selling rock of the ‘90s goes. Despite their continued stadium success abroad, I could totally see Live playing live at the local dive bar. No, that’s a good thing! Though I don’t actively seek it out, I’m still a sucker for bluesy, alternative rock, where tales of common folk struggles are told with not a hint of preaching or sanctimonious condemnation. Even with Kowlaczyk interjecting headier concepts of spiritualism and mysticism this time out, Live still remain grounded in how they present themselves. For a chap that will likely never lose his small town sensibility (I keep trying!), this remains most appealing.

While I’m almost certain this ends my forays into Live’s discography, I must admit coming away from both Throwing Copper and Secret Samadhi more appreciative of the band than I ever thought possible. And will someone help out their Wiki pages? Dear God, it’s disgraceful.

Coldplay - A Rush Of Blood To The Head

Parlaphone: 2002

I suppose if you’re gonna’ have any Coldplay album, it may as well be this one. It’s stronger than their debut, wherein the band members’ quick success had provided plenty confidence in their song-writing. It’s also still early in their career, before all the pretentious waffle that came associated with the band emerged, their sound fresh in the minds of everyone coming within earshot of Clocks and In My Place. It’s definitely the best-selling of Coldplay’s albums, earning over twenty-million sales globally, despite not even hitting the number one spot in America. Thanks to its ultra-success, nearly every album since A Rush Of Blood To The Head debuted on top of charts the world over, the streak finally ending with last year’s A Head Full Of Dreams.

And just what gave Coldplay’s sophomore effort such undeniable fame, fortune, plaudits, and popularity? Eh, I’m not the guy to psycho-analyze this. Given its never-ending placement in “Best Ever Rock Albums” lists, not to mention the massive market penetration, more than enough folks have provided in-depth insight into what made this album ‘work’. I’ve only given the band passive interest over the years, their ubiquitous presence upon radios abroad sating whatever Coldplay need I ever had. Nearly did pick up that X&Y album though, what with promo hype promising inspiration from electronic music past; impossibly, eye-catching cover art didn’t hurt either, luring me in as fuzzy Lepidoptera to flame.

Talk about A Rush Of Blood To The Head I must though, and my stunning conclusion of this album is… yeah, it’s a nice listen. Not shattering any narratives here, my friends. Coldplay have that sweet middle ground of pop sensibilities while presenting themselves with enough earnest songcraft that you can’t fault them on any basic musical level. The melodies fill a room as pleasant background fluff, have enough substance to lure you in for a closer listen, and never wander too far off the path of familiarity. It’s the sound everyone figured Radiohead would have made if that band had only explored their inner U2 capabilities rather than go full-on Pink Floyd. In other words, exactly the music most magazines are quick to heap praise upon, radios are quick to flood the airwaves with, and folks were eager to own in their still-practical CD collections. Fair play to Coldplay in filling that apparent gaping void, though it cannot be denied hearing In My Place every week for the past decade is too damn much for any sane person.

I don’t know what else to say about A Rush Of Blood To The Head - today’s events are kinda’ distracting. I’ve read speculation attributing the album’s success to the aftershock of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a calming musical journey that also provided a sense of motivated urgency in how people should proceed. While playing this on a day like today, reading of innocent people falling to yet another senseless, preventable tragedy, that theory was definitely put into practice for yours truly. Rest well.

The Cranberries - No Need To Argue

Island Records: 1994

The Cranberries were one of the most popular bands that gave the world a grunge anthem, which is hilarious because they are not a grunge band. Alternative rock, perhaps, but the Irish group only ever made one song that could be considered grunge. But hoo, what a song that was, Zombie among the biggest singles of the ‘90s, setting The Cranberries up for plenty of future success. This, despite tons of CD buyers coming away from No Need To Argue with confused first impressions.

Not that they were total unknowns leading up to this album. Linger from their debut did reasonably well, especially in thanks to copious amounts of MTV play, and also finding a nice home on alternative stations. It’s a peppy bit of soft rock, perfect for your romantic comedy needs, more indicative of The Cranberries’ style of music, and generated enough buzz for their debut album, Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can’t We?, for a top spot on the Billboard of Ireland and the UK. Island Records, the victors of a label bidding war as representation for the band, had to be pleased. It was good enough for a modest fanbase in their homeland and even a little abroad, one that would stick with the group throughout the ‘90s. Not a bad claim to fame, nosiree.

But then along lurched a Zombie, scoring the band a Number One hit across the globe. It’s no surprise this single became the sensation it was, executing the grunge ‘quiet-heavy-quiet-heavy’ template to perfection. Coupled with a rousing chorus singer Dolores O’Riordan completely owns, and you’ve an anthem for the pissed-off generation that’s continuously played at every “Hey, remember the ‘90s?” party. It helped that it honestly sounded unlike anything else at the time, with that haggard accented voice from Dolores, to say nothing of an actual lady providing pipes in such a male dominated scene. The whole ‘anti-war’ message didn’t hurt its prospects either, though I wonder how many of my peers even knew Zombie was about that, instead content scream-singing “In your head, in your head, they’re fi-i-ighting. In your hee-aaadd! In your hee-aaadd ! Zo-o-mbie! Zo-o-ombie! Zomibe! Ey-Eh”, etc. Lord knows I didn’t clue in until the fiftieth time I heard it.

And that, despite scoring big on the charts with ultra-Platinum sales, No Need To Argue has found many a home in the used shops across the land (erm, with CD hoarders too). The Cranberries already had their followers, and this album’s blend of peppy alternative rock, charming Irish folk ballads, and Ms. O’Riordan’s intoxicating voice (such a wonderful singer!) delivers to those fans in spades. However, for the multitude of others that were introduced to the band via Zombie, and expecting more of that… well, some became fans of their traditional sound regardless. Many others though, didn’t quite vibe with what the Limerick group was selling, leaving them with No Need To Argue as a neglected gift from their Auntie. Probably.