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.
Showing posts with label grunge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grunge. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 19, 2018
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Weld
Reprise Records: 1991
Considering the plethora of live albums Neil Young's Archives series has churned out this past decade, its difficult remembering such things were once rarities. For sure many of his albums would contain live recordings of new material, but a full live set of concert material? It wasn't until Live Rust, a companion piece to the Rust Never Sleeps tour extravaganza, that a true concert recording in conceptual full was made available for sale. Fast forward through most of the '80s that many Rusties demote as a 'lost decade', and we're right back in full rock 'n' roll glory with his Craziest of Horse pals in Ragged Glory, a raucous tour to back it up, and finally his second official live album unleashed from it.
Ol' Shakey didn't set out to prove he could stand toe-to-toe with those new, noisy 'grunge' kids, but Weld sure done does that. Unlike Live Rust, there's not a lick of acoustic music throughout the double-disc feature. Only downtime comes care of a cover of Bob Dylan's folksy ditty Blowin' In The Wind, stretched out here to nearly seven minutes, with huge walls of guitar feedback, wartime sound effects, and lovely Crazy Horse harmonies. I suppose some of Young's slower tunes might count for 'chill' music, like the bluesy Tonight's The Night, and the guitar epic Cortez The Killer, but ain't nothing calm or soothing about Neil's pained howls and cutting lyrics, much less those extended solos.
Oh yeah, you better love yourself some lengthy guitar jamming if you're interested in this live album. Absolutely you get the classics like Like A Hurricane and Hey Hey, My My (Into The Black), but as this tour was in support of Ragged Glory, most of that album's extended songs show up here too. Sweet deal for me, as they're my favourite tunes from that record! The steady burner Love To Burn, the cock-rockin' F*!#in' Up, the unabashed solo-excusing Love And Only Love, the hilariously sloppy Farmer Jon, and my guilty pleasure Mansion On A Hill. Whenever I hear this song, it instantly takes me back to early Shambhala sentiments, the lyrics eerily on point in reflecting my mind-space at the time (probably didn't hurt I was also succumbing to the Rustie Bug too).
Anything else? How about some good ol' rockin' out with over nine minutes of Rockin' In The Free World? Or solid common-clay story-telling with Powerderfinger and Crime In The City? A couple throwback jams with Cinnamon Girl and Roll Another Number (For The Road)? Okay, maybe not that one, but it's a charming tune to end a concert on. Drive safe, y'all.
Weld is pretty much wall-to-wall guitar glory, performed by a bunch of middle-aged men who were inspiring all the youngin's of rock's new '90s world (Sonic Youth opened for them on this tour). And hey, if we didn't get Weld, then Young wouldn't have wrecked his hearing so bad that he was forced to follow it with another classic in Harvest Moon.
Considering the plethora of live albums Neil Young's Archives series has churned out this past decade, its difficult remembering such things were once rarities. For sure many of his albums would contain live recordings of new material, but a full live set of concert material? It wasn't until Live Rust, a companion piece to the Rust Never Sleeps tour extravaganza, that a true concert recording in conceptual full was made available for sale. Fast forward through most of the '80s that many Rusties demote as a 'lost decade', and we're right back in full rock 'n' roll glory with his Craziest of Horse pals in Ragged Glory, a raucous tour to back it up, and finally his second official live album unleashed from it.
Ol' Shakey didn't set out to prove he could stand toe-to-toe with those new, noisy 'grunge' kids, but Weld sure done does that. Unlike Live Rust, there's not a lick of acoustic music throughout the double-disc feature. Only downtime comes care of a cover of Bob Dylan's folksy ditty Blowin' In The Wind, stretched out here to nearly seven minutes, with huge walls of guitar feedback, wartime sound effects, and lovely Crazy Horse harmonies. I suppose some of Young's slower tunes might count for 'chill' music, like the bluesy Tonight's The Night, and the guitar epic Cortez The Killer, but ain't nothing calm or soothing about Neil's pained howls and cutting lyrics, much less those extended solos.
Oh yeah, you better love yourself some lengthy guitar jamming if you're interested in this live album. Absolutely you get the classics like Like A Hurricane and Hey Hey, My My (Into The Black), but as this tour was in support of Ragged Glory, most of that album's extended songs show up here too. Sweet deal for me, as they're my favourite tunes from that record! The steady burner Love To Burn, the cock-rockin' F*!#in' Up, the unabashed solo-excusing Love And Only Love, the hilariously sloppy Farmer Jon, and my guilty pleasure Mansion On A Hill. Whenever I hear this song, it instantly takes me back to early Shambhala sentiments, the lyrics eerily on point in reflecting my mind-space at the time (probably didn't hurt I was also succumbing to the Rustie Bug too).
Anything else? How about some good ol' rockin' out with over nine minutes of Rockin' In The Free World? Or solid common-clay story-telling with Powerderfinger and Crime In The City? A couple throwback jams with Cinnamon Girl and Roll Another Number (For The Road)? Okay, maybe not that one, but it's a charming tune to end a concert on. Drive safe, y'all.
Weld is pretty much wall-to-wall guitar glory, performed by a bunch of middle-aged men who were inspiring all the youngin's of rock's new '90s world (Sonic Youth opened for them on this tour). And hey, if we didn't get Weld, then Young wouldn't have wrecked his hearing so bad that he was forced to follow it with another classic in Harvest Moon.
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
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.
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.
Labels:
1997,
album,
alternative rock,
grunge,
Live,
Radioactive
Friday, June 3, 2016
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 6, 2016
Live - Throwing Copper
Radioactive: 1994
One of the only ‘90s alternative rock albums you ever bought in the ‘90s, even if you weren’t the sort to buy alternative rock albums in the ‘90s. You certainly remember Live (pronounced “it’s alive”) from radio play and music video rotation, but do you really replay their music much? Be honest now. No wonder the band’s earned the running gag of one of the biggest acts of that decade that no one remembers.
As a refresher, they flitted through the realms of grunge, college rock, and even a bit of country, not quite getting pigeon-holed into any specific scene, yet always welcome on the appropriate FM stations. The I Alone vid’ is practically a what’s-what of ‘90s alt-rock standards: a desolate stage shoot with requisite grunge tree, shirtless shaved member, a long-haired scruffy Reality Bites member, a short-haired scruffy Clerks member, creepy animals. Live is about the most ‘90s rock band any ‘90s rock fan will tell you existed, despite the group maintaining a decent career well into the ‘00s, even releasing a new album eighteen months ago. It, erm, didn’t sell even a touch as well as Throwing Copper.
But then few albums did in the ‘90s, Live’s sophomore effort one of the best selling LPs of the decade. This, despite the fact it only hit the top of the charts in a handful of countries, and only scored a couple number one hits out of five singles released (Selling The Drama and Lightning Crashes earning those honors). Throwing Copper was the epitome of a slow burner though, an album from a band no one knew much about, but through consistent airplay and word-of-mouth buzz positive momentum t’was built. It got folks to thoserecord CD shops, buying Throwing Copper for themselves, as a gift for their friends, and a second copy after wrecking their first while tossing it into their glove compartment (probably). The result is a eight-million selling record.
And unlike some other mega-selling ‘90s albums, most folks aren’t so embarrassed at having bought this. Live are a solid rock band, no doubt, capably going from soft and melodic to loud and aggressive as needed. Ed Kowalczyk makes for a good, relatable frontman, telling tales of people on the struggling side of life without ever sounding condescending or ultra-angsty. Live find an agreeable middle-ground, Throwing Copper as engaging a listen as it is a nice casual throw-on; a slightly heavier Tragically Hip, is the vibe I’m getting at.
Yet for as good a rock album this is, you don’t see much in the way of retrospectives for it. Its 20th Anniversary passed by with but a token vinyl reissue, a feat even a middling rock release gets these days. More damning though is its Wiki page, the barest of write-ups offered. Nothing regarding the album's conception, recording process, interviews with band members… this, for a top selling album of the ‘90s. Amazing how something once so popular can so easily turn into an afterthought.
One of the only ‘90s alternative rock albums you ever bought in the ‘90s, even if you weren’t the sort to buy alternative rock albums in the ‘90s. You certainly remember Live (pronounced “it’s alive”) from radio play and music video rotation, but do you really replay their music much? Be honest now. No wonder the band’s earned the running gag of one of the biggest acts of that decade that no one remembers.
As a refresher, they flitted through the realms of grunge, college rock, and even a bit of country, not quite getting pigeon-holed into any specific scene, yet always welcome on the appropriate FM stations. The I Alone vid’ is practically a what’s-what of ‘90s alt-rock standards: a desolate stage shoot with requisite grunge tree, shirtless shaved member, a long-haired scruffy Reality Bites member, a short-haired scruffy Clerks member, creepy animals. Live is about the most ‘90s rock band any ‘90s rock fan will tell you existed, despite the group maintaining a decent career well into the ‘00s, even releasing a new album eighteen months ago. It, erm, didn’t sell even a touch as well as Throwing Copper.
But then few albums did in the ‘90s, Live’s sophomore effort one of the best selling LPs of the decade. This, despite the fact it only hit the top of the charts in a handful of countries, and only scored a couple number one hits out of five singles released (Selling The Drama and Lightning Crashes earning those honors). Throwing Copper was the epitome of a slow burner though, an album from a band no one knew much about, but through consistent airplay and word-of-mouth buzz positive momentum t’was built. It got folks to those
And unlike some other mega-selling ‘90s albums, most folks aren’t so embarrassed at having bought this. Live are a solid rock band, no doubt, capably going from soft and melodic to loud and aggressive as needed. Ed Kowalczyk makes for a good, relatable frontman, telling tales of people on the struggling side of life without ever sounding condescending or ultra-angsty. Live find an agreeable middle-ground, Throwing Copper as engaging a listen as it is a nice casual throw-on; a slightly heavier Tragically Hip, is the vibe I’m getting at.
Yet for as good a rock album this is, you don’t see much in the way of retrospectives for it. Its 20th Anniversary passed by with but a token vinyl reissue, a feat even a middling rock release gets these days. More damning though is its Wiki page, the barest of write-ups offered. Nothing regarding the album's conception, recording process, interviews with band members… this, for a top selling album of the ‘90s. Amazing how something once so popular can so easily turn into an afterthought.
Labels:
1994,
album,
alternative rock,
grunge,
Live,
Radioactive
Monday, August 3, 2015
ACE TRACKS: July 2015
So Neil Young’s pulled his music from online streaming services. At least, until he feels the audio quality meets the high demand standards he deems worthy of his music. Aww, c’mon, mang, I pay for Spotify Premium, I gets the best possible quality from them. Why you gonna’ deny me the music in your discography that I really don’t have much interest in buying? Now I’ll never hear Landing On Water or Fork In The Road. And what of those who look forward to your songs in these monthly Playlists? No, no, I can sense all of your disappointment, Mr. Young’s music now as out of digital reach as Beatles albums. Dark times indeed, but here’s the ACE TRACKS of July 2015 regardless.
Full track list here.
MISSING ALBUMS:
Sequential - Sequential
Tobias. - A Series Of Shocks
The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
Chris Duckenfield - Sheffield Mix Sessions
Aldrin - Singapore Tribal
Dogon - The Sirius Expeditions
Various - Slumberland
Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 5%
Percentage Of Rock: 16%
Most “WTF?” Track: Any of the Eminem raps will turn your head if you’re a prude.
Review-wise, this was my most productive July yet. Not sure where I got the extra motivation to plow through it all – maybe those two weeks off in June did me more good than expected. Or perhaps I was simply anxious to hear all these disparate albums, compilations, and mixes, some of which were quite new to my ears (oh hi one-hit wonder grunge bands!). Others were CDs I’d long had thoughts about and were eager to share. This did leave for a rather eclectic collection of tunes though, so I went with another alphabetical arrangement, sans the inclusion of Depeche Mode’s CD1 Singles and Paul van Dyk’s CD2 Seven Ways at the end.
Incidentally, Spotify has sorted out their Local Files issue, so a complete tracklist including all the missing album songs is available, bringing the total runtime of this playlist a whopping 8.5 hours. Drawback of cranking out consistent reviews, I guess: all those ACE TRACK selections. Maybe I ought to start reviewing crummier albums?
Full track list here.
MISSING ALBUMS:
Sequential - Sequential
Tobias. - A Series Of Shocks
The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
Chris Duckenfield - Sheffield Mix Sessions
Aldrin - Singapore Tribal
Dogon - The Sirius Expeditions
Various - Slumberland
Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 5%
Percentage Of Rock: 16%
Most “WTF?” Track: Any of the Eminem raps will turn your head if you’re a prude.
Review-wise, this was my most productive July yet. Not sure where I got the extra motivation to plow through it all – maybe those two weeks off in June did me more good than expected. Or perhaps I was simply anxious to hear all these disparate albums, compilations, and mixes, some of which were quite new to my ears (oh hi one-hit wonder grunge bands!). Others were CDs I’d long had thoughts about and were eager to share. This did leave for a rather eclectic collection of tunes though, so I went with another alphabetical arrangement, sans the inclusion of Depeche Mode’s CD1 Singles and Paul van Dyk’s CD2 Seven Ways at the end.
Incidentally, Spotify has sorted out their Local Files issue, so a complete tracklist including all the missing album songs is available, bringing the total runtime of this playlist a whopping 8.5 hours. Drawback of cranking out consistent reviews, I guess: all those ACE TRACK selections. Maybe I ought to start reviewing crummier albums?
Monday, July 27, 2015
Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Sleeps With Angels
Reprise Records: 1994
Sleeps With Angels is one of the best albums Neil Young and his Crazy Horse ever put out, yet hardly gets mentioned in discussion. True, some of their other records had more impact on rock’s landscape – no one's taking away classics like Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere and Rust Never Sleeps. This one though, note for note, chord for chord, guitar for piano, drum for flute, distortion for melody, Sleeps With Angels is a beautiful album. Not because it paints a pretty picture, oh no! These are some incredibly bleak songs, topics of death, decay, and depression all presented in as grungy a way as blues rock can go. There's something captivating about all this misery though, like scenes out of an art-house film without the pretentious waffle that comes with it.
For instance, the criminally overlooked song Driveby, which deals with drive-by shootings and the tragedy they so often create. Young doesn't preach, laying out one senseless scenario after the other, the music he and Crazy Horse provide marching at a sombrely pace as though they're funeral pall-bearers. Their harmonized chorus, simply the title of the track, is such a heart-breaker, you wonder if the band themselves suffered a drive-by death in the family.
And so much of Sleeps With Angels is like this. Prime Of Life details the insidious nature of tabloid magazines ruining the Royal Family, the titular cut touches on Kurt Cobain's suicide with distortion dragged through the ugliest gravel pit, Western Hero forlornly recalls past glories of an old cowboy, Trans Am forlornly recalls past glories of a Trans Am, Safeway Cart paints a portrait of ghetto decay, and the epic fourteen minute long Change Your Mind tries consoling with extreme depression, wary of the spectre of suicide ever lurking in the shadows. My God, it wasn't that many years prior Young gave the world the sentimental Harvest Moon, much less teaming up with The Horse on the free-wheeling Ragged Glory. Even the one 'cock rocker' on here, the hilarious Piece Of Crap, rants on about disposable consumerist junk. What made them turn so dour? '90s, man, f’n '90s.
I wonder if that’s why Sleeps With Angels doesn’t receive the same Boomer plaudits as Young’s older work. The songcraft is all here, Neil & Crazy as tight-knit yet wonderfully loose of a unit during their ‘90s resurgence, but older folks just don’t talk it up much. Are the topics too touchy for his traditional audience, a sense of all the things that generation had worked for run ragged and cast aside by Gen-X’s emergence upon adulthood? Figures Young found a common link between the two with his music, the grunge aesthetic he helped pioneer turned into musings on the state of the nation. Its topics the adults could relate to, but wrapped in a package appealing to the teens, and all the more brilliant for it. Sadly, that also lands Sleeps With Angels in a nowhere land between disparate music scenes, often neglected by both.
Sleeps With Angels is one of the best albums Neil Young and his Crazy Horse ever put out, yet hardly gets mentioned in discussion. True, some of their other records had more impact on rock’s landscape – no one's taking away classics like Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere and Rust Never Sleeps. This one though, note for note, chord for chord, guitar for piano, drum for flute, distortion for melody, Sleeps With Angels is a beautiful album. Not because it paints a pretty picture, oh no! These are some incredibly bleak songs, topics of death, decay, and depression all presented in as grungy a way as blues rock can go. There's something captivating about all this misery though, like scenes out of an art-house film without the pretentious waffle that comes with it.
For instance, the criminally overlooked song Driveby, which deals with drive-by shootings and the tragedy they so often create. Young doesn't preach, laying out one senseless scenario after the other, the music he and Crazy Horse provide marching at a sombrely pace as though they're funeral pall-bearers. Their harmonized chorus, simply the title of the track, is such a heart-breaker, you wonder if the band themselves suffered a drive-by death in the family.
And so much of Sleeps With Angels is like this. Prime Of Life details the insidious nature of tabloid magazines ruining the Royal Family, the titular cut touches on Kurt Cobain's suicide with distortion dragged through the ugliest gravel pit, Western Hero forlornly recalls past glories of an old cowboy, Trans Am forlornly recalls past glories of a Trans Am, Safeway Cart paints a portrait of ghetto decay, and the epic fourteen minute long Change Your Mind tries consoling with extreme depression, wary of the spectre of suicide ever lurking in the shadows. My God, it wasn't that many years prior Young gave the world the sentimental Harvest Moon, much less teaming up with The Horse on the free-wheeling Ragged Glory. Even the one 'cock rocker' on here, the hilarious Piece Of Crap, rants on about disposable consumerist junk. What made them turn so dour? '90s, man, f’n '90s.
I wonder if that’s why Sleeps With Angels doesn’t receive the same Boomer plaudits as Young’s older work. The songcraft is all here, Neil & Crazy as tight-knit yet wonderfully loose of a unit during their ‘90s resurgence, but older folks just don’t talk it up much. Are the topics too touchy for his traditional audience, a sense of all the things that generation had worked for run ragged and cast aside by Gen-X’s emergence upon adulthood? Figures Young found a common link between the two with his music, the grunge aesthetic he helped pioneer turned into musings on the state of the nation. Its topics the adults could relate to, but wrapped in a package appealing to the teens, and all the more brilliant for it. Sadly, that also lands Sleeps With Angels in a nowhere land between disparate music scenes, often neglected by both.
Friday, July 24, 2015
BushX - Sixteen Stone
Interscope Records: 1994/1996
This being a Canadian blog, I must call this band BushX. The Can-Con Commission is ruthless, often breaking knees over preserving our heritage, including making sure a home-grown Bush band doesn't get overshadowed by a foreign Bush band. What's funny is with the immense popularity of Gavin Rossdale's group, Roy Kenner's group got more publicity for their infringement lawsuit than any of their music garnered - from the Gen-X crowd anyway. What's even funnier is it worked, my brain still subconsciously treating this album as a BushX record, not a Bush one. This, despite the fact BushX technically no longer must be called BushX within our borders. Guess after London Bush disbanded for a while, Toronto Bush saw little need for anal-retentive clarification of whose Bush is whose.
Anyhow, Sixteen Stone. This was a ridiculously popular album back in the day, though I'm hard pressed to think of anyone admitting they throw it on anymore. It certainly hasn't aged as terribly as many other post-Nirvana grunge bands, but nor does it have the gritty charm of the original Seattle invasion. BushX sound just a little too polished with their distortion, a little too clean-cut in their angst, a little too big label produced for a supposed grassroots music scene. And yet almost no one initially wanted to sign them. Grunge from the UK? Balderdash!
Super success notwithstanding, the band has a humble beginning, Gavin and fellow guitarist Nigel Pulsford joining forces through a mutual love of Pixies. They're competent musicians, knowing their way around feedback and riffs that are heavy, dreary, and all that good grunge stuff. I dunno though, it all feels off, even to these ears that have as little exposure to the genre as a '90s teenager could hope to achieve. Matters aren’t helped when Gavin just doesn't strike me as a 'proper' grunge leading man, y'know? I cannot deny he's got stage presence, a look and voice just as impressive as Cobain's wretchedness, Scott Weiland's hot mess, and Eddie Vedder's pearly whites. Wouldn't he be better served fronting a traditional heavy alt-rock band though?
Whatever. Machinehead’s a kick-ass tune, no one can ever deny that. Most of the other songs rock well enough for a casual listen, and I’m sure almost every girl made out to Glycerine before Aerosmith stole BushX’s teen dance thunder. Hell, even Ishkur was a big enough fan to get this limited edition 2CD version with a bonus live recording included. Explain yourself there, mang.
Ishkur: “I had that? I had no idea.”
Dammit, doesn't everyone obsess over their CDs?
Honestly, I was curious to hear how disc two sounded, whether the studio polish of CD1 capably translated to stage performance. Screaming girls aside (because of course), it was pretty cool, the band sounding much looser and Gavin’s singing straining in a cool sort of way. Maybe the band realized this rougher sound served their music better, going with Steve Albini for their second album. It didn’t serve their sales though.
This being a Canadian blog, I must call this band BushX. The Can-Con Commission is ruthless, often breaking knees over preserving our heritage, including making sure a home-grown Bush band doesn't get overshadowed by a foreign Bush band. What's funny is with the immense popularity of Gavin Rossdale's group, Roy Kenner's group got more publicity for their infringement lawsuit than any of their music garnered - from the Gen-X crowd anyway. What's even funnier is it worked, my brain still subconsciously treating this album as a BushX record, not a Bush one. This, despite the fact BushX technically no longer must be called BushX within our borders. Guess after London Bush disbanded for a while, Toronto Bush saw little need for anal-retentive clarification of whose Bush is whose.
Anyhow, Sixteen Stone. This was a ridiculously popular album back in the day, though I'm hard pressed to think of anyone admitting they throw it on anymore. It certainly hasn't aged as terribly as many other post-Nirvana grunge bands, but nor does it have the gritty charm of the original Seattle invasion. BushX sound just a little too polished with their distortion, a little too clean-cut in their angst, a little too big label produced for a supposed grassroots music scene. And yet almost no one initially wanted to sign them. Grunge from the UK? Balderdash!
Super success notwithstanding, the band has a humble beginning, Gavin and fellow guitarist Nigel Pulsford joining forces through a mutual love of Pixies. They're competent musicians, knowing their way around feedback and riffs that are heavy, dreary, and all that good grunge stuff. I dunno though, it all feels off, even to these ears that have as little exposure to the genre as a '90s teenager could hope to achieve. Matters aren’t helped when Gavin just doesn't strike me as a 'proper' grunge leading man, y'know? I cannot deny he's got stage presence, a look and voice just as impressive as Cobain's wretchedness, Scott Weiland's hot mess, and Eddie Vedder's pearly whites. Wouldn't he be better served fronting a traditional heavy alt-rock band though?
Whatever. Machinehead’s a kick-ass tune, no one can ever deny that. Most of the other songs rock well enough for a casual listen, and I’m sure almost every girl made out to Glycerine before Aerosmith stole BushX’s teen dance thunder. Hell, even Ishkur was a big enough fan to get this limited edition 2CD version with a bonus live recording included. Explain yourself there, mang.
Ishkur: “I had that? I had no idea.”
Dammit, doesn't everyone obsess over their CDs?
Honestly, I was curious to hear how disc two sounded, whether the studio polish of CD1 capably translated to stage performance. Screaming girls aside (because of course), it was pretty cool, the band sounding much looser and Gavin’s singing straining in a cool sort of way. Maybe the band realized this rougher sound served their music better, going with Steve Albini for their second album. It didn’t serve their sales though.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Ragged Glory
Reprise Records: 1990
This album took me from “Yeah, Neil Young's got some nice music, I guess.” to “Neil is God!” That might not be as impressive as it seems, despite Ragged Glory being the second record I picked up from Mr. Shakey (and first with the Crazy Horses). Had I nabbed one of his early efforts like Rust Never Sleeps or After The Goldrush before this, it’s probable I'd fall sway to his musical allure just the same. I can't even remember why I took the plunge on this one in particular, since all I really knew of his output was the Harvest Moon folksy material (Rockin' In The Free World notwithstanding). I'd heard good things about Ragged Glory, sure, but nothing that suggested it was a life-changing album or the like. Took that plunge I did though, after which I was compelled to consume all that Mr. Young had released. Fortunately for my bank account, the country hoe-down Old Ways was my follow-up, quickly instilling some caution in any further explorations of Neil's discography.
For all intents, there isn't anything about Ragged Glory that should have had the impact on me that it did. It’s a great rock album, no doubt, but it’s not reinventing the wheel or leading the charge of a new, unique scene. The music is catchy and unchallenging, with guitar riffs going down easy and sweet vocal harmonies that’ll lodge themselves in your brain without ever overstaying their welcome. The lyrics have little nuggets of aging wisdom about them (or, in the case of Farmer John, are just sloppy good fun), though seem written as mere service to the music performed. At most, Ragged Glory serves as a definitive statement for aging rockers that one not need fade away like so much bad ‘80s hair. Unlike many of his fellow ‘60s and ‘70s alum, he found kinship with the new generation of alt-rock and grunge bands emerging from the underground, and was fearless in joining their ranks. If his prior album Freedom was a rebirth of sorts, then Ragged Glory finds Neil full of fire and flying high above his contemporaries.
I can’t say any of you will have the same notions about this album should you hear it, especially as you’re reading this on an electronic music blog (mang, crunchy guitar solos are totally electronic!). I guess in my case, Ragged Glory represented the sort of rock that I always imagined rock music should sound like, but seldom heard performed. Believe me, with all the garage bands I’ve been exposed to over the years, none had such a rugged edge while retaining bar-blues affability and dismissing arrogant posturing. Young’s solos here are wild and messy, yet I hang on each chord, eagerly anticipating which unpredictable direction he’ll go in next, always reassured he’ll find his way back to Crazy Horse’s steadying rhythm. I imagine, had I heard Ragged Glory before ‘techno’ seduced me, I’d have picked up that damn guitar like my old man always hoped I would.
This album took me from “Yeah, Neil Young's got some nice music, I guess.” to “Neil is God!” That might not be as impressive as it seems, despite Ragged Glory being the second record I picked up from Mr. Shakey (and first with the Crazy Horses). Had I nabbed one of his early efforts like Rust Never Sleeps or After The Goldrush before this, it’s probable I'd fall sway to his musical allure just the same. I can't even remember why I took the plunge on this one in particular, since all I really knew of his output was the Harvest Moon folksy material (Rockin' In The Free World notwithstanding). I'd heard good things about Ragged Glory, sure, but nothing that suggested it was a life-changing album or the like. Took that plunge I did though, after which I was compelled to consume all that Mr. Young had released. Fortunately for my bank account, the country hoe-down Old Ways was my follow-up, quickly instilling some caution in any further explorations of Neil's discography.
For all intents, there isn't anything about Ragged Glory that should have had the impact on me that it did. It’s a great rock album, no doubt, but it’s not reinventing the wheel or leading the charge of a new, unique scene. The music is catchy and unchallenging, with guitar riffs going down easy and sweet vocal harmonies that’ll lodge themselves in your brain without ever overstaying their welcome. The lyrics have little nuggets of aging wisdom about them (or, in the case of Farmer John, are just sloppy good fun), though seem written as mere service to the music performed. At most, Ragged Glory serves as a definitive statement for aging rockers that one not need fade away like so much bad ‘80s hair. Unlike many of his fellow ‘60s and ‘70s alum, he found kinship with the new generation of alt-rock and grunge bands emerging from the underground, and was fearless in joining their ranks. If his prior album Freedom was a rebirth of sorts, then Ragged Glory finds Neil full of fire and flying high above his contemporaries.
I can’t say any of you will have the same notions about this album should you hear it, especially as you’re reading this on an electronic music blog (mang, crunchy guitar solos are totally electronic!). I guess in my case, Ragged Glory represented the sort of rock that I always imagined rock music should sound like, but seldom heard performed. Believe me, with all the garage bands I’ve been exposed to over the years, none had such a rugged edge while retaining bar-blues affability and dismissing arrogant posturing. Young’s solos here are wild and messy, yet I hang on each chord, eagerly anticipating which unpredictable direction he’ll go in next, always reassured he’ll find his way back to Crazy Horse’s steadying rhythm. I imagine, had I heard Ragged Glory before ‘techno’ seduced me, I’d have picked up that damn guitar like my old man always hoped I would.
Friday, November 21, 2014
ACE TRACKS: March 2014
Ah yes, the “Sykonee Listens To Ishkur’s Old CDs” month. And that was only the last-half! Prior to that, it was all those Mixed Goods CDs of mine, and a few odds and ends of weird variety before that. We got ourselves a fun one, folks, for ACE TRACKS: March 2014!
Full track list here.
MISSING ALBUMS:
The Future Sound Of London - Environments 3
The Future Sound Of London - Environments II
Tool - Ænima
Fehrplay - Meow
And obviously all Mixed Goods, but at least a third of those tracks are available on Spotify anyway.
Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 0%
Percentage of Neil Young: 0%
Most “WTF?” Track: Aqua - Roses Are Red (not for the actual song, but for how I’ve strategically placed it for maximum “WTF” potential)
Whoa, a whole month’s worth of reviews with nary a hip-hop cut or Neil Young croon. And yet, this is undoubtedly the rock-heaviest Playlist I’ve done, and am likely ever to do. There’s hard rock, arena rock, alternative rock, metal rock, other-metal rock, and grunge too. Unless I take on another friend or associate’s old CD collection, I can’t see any more Playlists veering so far off the electronic music path as this one. And yet, it never feels like the house, techno, downtempo, and experimental chill-out are shoved to the side, flowing almost seamlessly between the post-guitar-blues material. I never though FSOL and Beck needed pairing together, yet here it is - now I desperately want them to get wicked-stoned in a studio and cranking out nothing short of a double-LP of weirdness.
I feared this playlist would turn into as much of a clusterfuck as April 2014’s, but as long as you don’t mind all the rock, it’s good listening. No doubt it helps when I don’t award ACE TRACK status to full 2CD-length albums.
Full track list here.
MISSING ALBUMS:
The Future Sound Of London - Environments 3
The Future Sound Of London - Environments II
Tool - Ænima
Fehrplay - Meow
And obviously all Mixed Goods, but at least a third of those tracks are available on Spotify anyway.
Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 0%
Percentage of Neil Young: 0%
Most “WTF?” Track: Aqua - Roses Are Red (not for the actual song, but for how I’ve strategically placed it for maximum “WTF” potential)
Whoa, a whole month’s worth of reviews with nary a hip-hop cut or Neil Young croon. And yet, this is undoubtedly the rock-heaviest Playlist I’ve done, and am likely ever to do. There’s hard rock, arena rock, alternative rock, metal rock, other-metal rock, and grunge too. Unless I take on another friend or associate’s old CD collection, I can’t see any more Playlists veering so far off the electronic music path as this one. And yet, it never feels like the house, techno, downtempo, and experimental chill-out are shoved to the side, flowing almost seamlessly between the post-guitar-blues material. I never though FSOL and Beck needed pairing together, yet here it is - now I desperately want them to get wicked-stoned in a studio and cranking out nothing short of a double-LP of weirdness.
I feared this playlist would turn into as much of a clusterfuck as April 2014’s, but as long as you don’t mind all the rock, it’s good listening. No doubt it helps when I don’t award ACE TRACK status to full 2CD-length albums.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Soundgarden - Down On The Upside
A & M Records: 1996
I could have skipped all these rock albums. I’m not required to review them, no overhead demanding I write about this or that. Plus, isn’t it self-defeating and counter-productive that a blog dedicated to electronic music deviates from its target field so wildly? Yes it is, but as my personal collection of music contains barely one-tenth rock, an occasional divergence into Neil Young or Yes wouldn’t hurt my overall scope. Doing so set a precedent though, and now I’m obligated to cover bands like Tool, The Offspring (soon), and Filter (way later), lest I turn hypocritical in providing preferential exposure to any music. Damn it, Ish’, why couldn’t you have discovered electronic music earlier in your life?
2014 Ishkur: You wanted the CD tower; you get my old CDs.
Right. Man, maybe I should get shelves next time. With this sort of luck, the next chap I get a tower off of will be a jazz enthusiast.
Anyhow, Soundgarden. They were a very important band coming out of the Seattle grunge scene. Many fans of the era place them on equal footing with the Big Two (Nirvana and Pearl Jam), despite not breaking through until 1994's Superunknown. Makes sense it took that long, as their first couple albums found them playing traditional forms of hard rock (punk, metal) as their Washington State peers were defining a genre and generation (however unintentional it was). That background led to a darker tone in Soundgarden’s music, Black Sabbath often getting name-dropped in comparisons. In all, it helped identify Soundgarden as a unique offering to grunge's legacy even as the scene was increasingly drowning in copycats.
The band also followed suit with other early grunge bands in quickly moving on from the genre before it grew too stale. Down On The Upside, their final album before taking a decade-plus hiatus, isn’t so heavy on angst and bleak Gen-X existence as their prior work, instead trying their hand at other forms of rock. They still allow for a couple ‘traditional’ grunge cuts like Blow Up The Outside World, but by ’96 the whole “quiet verse, loud chorus” arrangement was in serious parody mode, and I’ve no doubt Soundgarden were fully aware of it. No, ‘tis better to let inspiration and creativity flow rather than fall back on what fans undoubtedly expected of them.
And so they did. In tracks like Rhinosaur, Ty Cobb, No Attention, and Never The Machine Forever, they sound like the Led Zeppelin inspired band they were always likened to; other times they let their acoustic (Dusty, Zero Chance, Burden In My Hand) or blues (Boot Camp) interests dominate. They also experimented with odd time signatures and alternative tunings, because Wikipedia tells me so. Clearly, it’s nothing so overt that it detracts from the songcraft, unlike other hard rock bands of the time.
Down On The Upside’s a solid album, for sure. Can’t say I’ll ever listen to it again though. I’ve had my fill from alternative rock radio stations.
I could have skipped all these rock albums. I’m not required to review them, no overhead demanding I write about this or that. Plus, isn’t it self-defeating and counter-productive that a blog dedicated to electronic music deviates from its target field so wildly? Yes it is, but as my personal collection of music contains barely one-tenth rock, an occasional divergence into Neil Young or Yes wouldn’t hurt my overall scope. Doing so set a precedent though, and now I’m obligated to cover bands like Tool, The Offspring (soon), and Filter (way later), lest I turn hypocritical in providing preferential exposure to any music. Damn it, Ish’, why couldn’t you have discovered electronic music earlier in your life?
2014 Ishkur: You wanted the CD tower; you get my old CDs.
Right. Man, maybe I should get shelves next time. With this sort of luck, the next chap I get a tower off of will be a jazz enthusiast.
Anyhow, Soundgarden. They were a very important band coming out of the Seattle grunge scene. Many fans of the era place them on equal footing with the Big Two (Nirvana and Pearl Jam), despite not breaking through until 1994's Superunknown. Makes sense it took that long, as their first couple albums found them playing traditional forms of hard rock (punk, metal) as their Washington State peers were defining a genre and generation (however unintentional it was). That background led to a darker tone in Soundgarden’s music, Black Sabbath often getting name-dropped in comparisons. In all, it helped identify Soundgarden as a unique offering to grunge's legacy even as the scene was increasingly drowning in copycats.
The band also followed suit with other early grunge bands in quickly moving on from the genre before it grew too stale. Down On The Upside, their final album before taking a decade-plus hiatus, isn’t so heavy on angst and bleak Gen-X existence as their prior work, instead trying their hand at other forms of rock. They still allow for a couple ‘traditional’ grunge cuts like Blow Up The Outside World, but by ’96 the whole “quiet verse, loud chorus” arrangement was in serious parody mode, and I’ve no doubt Soundgarden were fully aware of it. No, ‘tis better to let inspiration and creativity flow rather than fall back on what fans undoubtedly expected of them.
And so they did. In tracks like Rhinosaur, Ty Cobb, No Attention, and Never The Machine Forever, they sound like the Led Zeppelin inspired band they were always likened to; other times they let their acoustic (Dusty, Zero Chance, Burden In My Hand) or blues (Boot Camp) interests dominate. They also experimented with odd time signatures and alternative tunings, because Wikipedia tells me so. Clearly, it’s nothing so overt that it detracts from the songcraft, unlike other hard rock bands of the time.
Down On The Upside’s a solid album, for sure. Can’t say I’ll ever listen to it again though. I’ve had my fill from alternative rock radio stations.
Monday, March 24, 2014
Stone Temple Pilots - Core
Atlantic: 1992
Of course a teenager would have a grunge album in their collection if they were a teenager in the early '90s. Wait, I never did, firmly planting my flag with 'techno' and making little concessions for other musics thereafter. I did have a single mixtape with some Nirvana on it, but that was about as obligated to the grunge scene as I ever got. Still, I have to give the former owner of these CDs credit, collecting mostly obscure grunge. No Pearl Jam, no Nirvana, no Alice In Chains, no Hole, no Smashing Pumpkins, and no Mudhoney; there is a Bush album with the lot I got though. Hey, Teenage Ishkur, why didn't you have most of the recognizable grunge bands with your CDs?
Teenage Ishkur: My older brother has them.
Oh. Well that makes sense.
Stone Temple Pilots may also be an obvious inclusion, but only if you have Purple. Carried by two of their most successful hits in Vaseline and Interstate Love Song, not to mention an iconic cover I’m sure Billy Corgan took notes on, the band’s sophomore effort has gone down as the only album by Stone Temple Pilots you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a fan of Stone Temple Pilots. Can’t say I was much of a fan myself, always mistaking Vaseline as a song by some other grunge act. By the time I did properly notice them, it was during the promotion of their third album, Tiny Music... Songs From The Vatican Gift Shop, specifically the Big Bang Baby video. With its cheesy So-Cal style, it was all kinds of silly, which I understand was the point, but 1996 Sykonee sure didn’t know that. Stone Temple Pilots thus remained with the rest of grunge on my ‘Don’t Give A Shit About’ list.
As with many things lately, I’ve reconsidered that foolhardy teenaged assumption. Their debut album, Core, is far more kick-ass than I thought it would be, and I see why this band was held in the same breath as Pearl Jam and Nirvana. Hell, with Scott Weiland really getting his Eddie Vedder on, they even sound like Pearl Jam, albeit with far heavier guitars front and centre. It’s like what Metallica might have sounded like if they’d emerged from grunge instead of thrash, a ridiculous comparison, true, but one that my limited exposure to this music made nonetheless.
When Core came out, Stone Temple Pilots were derided as bandwagon jumpers by the regular rock press, a not unfair judgement considering their early work as Mighty Joe Young was more eclectic. That said, this debut is also a competently written and strongly executed album from a group that had earned their stripes in the trenches. For that fact, Core has endured as a minor classic of the early ‘90s hard rock scene. Purple may be more essential to the casual, but if you’re gathering up grunge for your music collection, Core definitely deserves a spot on your shelves too.
Of course a teenager would have a grunge album in their collection if they were a teenager in the early '90s. Wait, I never did, firmly planting my flag with 'techno' and making little concessions for other musics thereafter. I did have a single mixtape with some Nirvana on it, but that was about as obligated to the grunge scene as I ever got. Still, I have to give the former owner of these CDs credit, collecting mostly obscure grunge. No Pearl Jam, no Nirvana, no Alice In Chains, no Hole, no Smashing Pumpkins, and no Mudhoney; there is a Bush album with the lot I got though. Hey, Teenage Ishkur, why didn't you have most of the recognizable grunge bands with your CDs?
Teenage Ishkur: My older brother has them.
Oh. Well that makes sense.
Stone Temple Pilots may also be an obvious inclusion, but only if you have Purple. Carried by two of their most successful hits in Vaseline and Interstate Love Song, not to mention an iconic cover I’m sure Billy Corgan took notes on, the band’s sophomore effort has gone down as the only album by Stone Temple Pilots you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a fan of Stone Temple Pilots. Can’t say I was much of a fan myself, always mistaking Vaseline as a song by some other grunge act. By the time I did properly notice them, it was during the promotion of their third album, Tiny Music... Songs From The Vatican Gift Shop, specifically the Big Bang Baby video. With its cheesy So-Cal style, it was all kinds of silly, which I understand was the point, but 1996 Sykonee sure didn’t know that. Stone Temple Pilots thus remained with the rest of grunge on my ‘Don’t Give A Shit About’ list.
As with many things lately, I’ve reconsidered that foolhardy teenaged assumption. Their debut album, Core, is far more kick-ass than I thought it would be, and I see why this band was held in the same breath as Pearl Jam and Nirvana. Hell, with Scott Weiland really getting his Eddie Vedder on, they even sound like Pearl Jam, albeit with far heavier guitars front and centre. It’s like what Metallica might have sounded like if they’d emerged from grunge instead of thrash, a ridiculous comparison, true, but one that my limited exposure to this music made nonetheless.
When Core came out, Stone Temple Pilots were derided as bandwagon jumpers by the regular rock press, a not unfair judgement considering their early work as Mighty Joe Young was more eclectic. That said, this debut is also a competently written and strongly executed album from a group that had earned their stripes in the trenches. For that fact, Core has endured as a minor classic of the early ‘90s hard rock scene. Purple may be more essential to the casual, but if you’re gathering up grunge for your music collection, Core definitely deserves a spot on your shelves too.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Tool - Ænima
Zoo Entertainment: 1996
Coming into Tool raw is well-nigh impossible, preconceived notions formed well before ever hearing the first rumble of Danny Carey’s drum kit, sludgy distortion of Adam Jones’ guitar, or billowing self-pity of Maynard James Keenan. Dammit, see what I mean? Without playing a single Tool song, I already know of the band’s tendency towards the musically proficient and lyrically po-faced bollocks, information gleaned through peer osmosis. For during their two-decade career, a reverent fanbase developed, one that wastes no time in preaching the Tool-Gospel of the band’s brilliance, and vehemently attacking anyone that presents such dissenting opinions like Tool are just okay, or not the brilliant song-writers legend purports. Thank God I’m way out here in the internet hinterlands, eh?
I figured there’d be some chance I’d like Tool if I gave them a chance, what with being known as ‘prog-metal’ pioneers and all. Well hey, I do like some prog (house or rock) and metal has its moments of awesome too. After giving Ænima three solid chances at winning me over, however, it’s safe to say I’ll never willingly listen to this band again. There’s simply too much nothing going on in this music for me to invest further.
Wait, that’s not accurate. The first half of Ænima contains several enjoyable heavy rock moments. Stinkfist’s hook has great thrashy bits, Eulogy’s even better and builds wonderfully from a quiet start to raucous climax, while Forty Six & 2 and Hooker With A Penis hold my attention with neat sounding guitar tones and drumming. Beyond that though, songs endlessly sludge along with staid musical passages, show-off bridges, and angst-ridden sentiments I grew out of ages ago (if I had them to begin with). The titular cut and a couple skits aside (mmm, ‘Satan’s Balls’…), the back half of Ænima drags with hardly any payoff. A perfect example comes in Pushit, where the band briefly switches to an urgent time-signature, suggesting an oncoming awesome build of tear-out metal; instead, they instantly retreat to a dithering quiet bit that goes on forever. Meanwhile, my thoughts wander to better metal and prog-rock like Pantera or Yes.
What caught me most off-guard though, was how grunge these tunes are – quiet, mumbly singing followed by loud shouting parts (and always unintelligible, buried in the mix). Granted, it’s due to Tool’s reputation as a metal band, but learning of their grunge roots, I totally get their appeal now. All those Holden Caulfields of the ‘90s alternative rock scene, desperate for heavy music that wasn’t so commercial and phony, found kinship in Keenan’s outlook, with challenging music to match. Throw in sound experiments cribbed from the industrial scene and weird, creepy visual accompaniments in videos and tours, and you’ve a grunge album unlike any other before, one that tried taking the genre down daring, new (progressive?) roads. A bold move on Tool’s part, for sure, one they could have pulled off on Ænima, if they’d spent more time on song-craft than technical masturbation.
Coming into Tool raw is well-nigh impossible, preconceived notions formed well before ever hearing the first rumble of Danny Carey’s drum kit, sludgy distortion of Adam Jones’ guitar, or billowing self-pity of Maynard James Keenan. Dammit, see what I mean? Without playing a single Tool song, I already know of the band’s tendency towards the musically proficient and lyrically po-faced bollocks, information gleaned through peer osmosis. For during their two-decade career, a reverent fanbase developed, one that wastes no time in preaching the Tool-Gospel of the band’s brilliance, and vehemently attacking anyone that presents such dissenting opinions like Tool are just okay, or not the brilliant song-writers legend purports. Thank God I’m way out here in the internet hinterlands, eh?
I figured there’d be some chance I’d like Tool if I gave them a chance, what with being known as ‘prog-metal’ pioneers and all. Well hey, I do like some prog (house or rock) and metal has its moments of awesome too. After giving Ænima three solid chances at winning me over, however, it’s safe to say I’ll never willingly listen to this band again. There’s simply too much nothing going on in this music for me to invest further.
Wait, that’s not accurate. The first half of Ænima contains several enjoyable heavy rock moments. Stinkfist’s hook has great thrashy bits, Eulogy’s even better and builds wonderfully from a quiet start to raucous climax, while Forty Six & 2 and Hooker With A Penis hold my attention with neat sounding guitar tones and drumming. Beyond that though, songs endlessly sludge along with staid musical passages, show-off bridges, and angst-ridden sentiments I grew out of ages ago (if I had them to begin with). The titular cut and a couple skits aside (mmm, ‘Satan’s Balls’…), the back half of Ænima drags with hardly any payoff. A perfect example comes in Pushit, where the band briefly switches to an urgent time-signature, suggesting an oncoming awesome build of tear-out metal; instead, they instantly retreat to a dithering quiet bit that goes on forever. Meanwhile, my thoughts wander to better metal and prog-rock like Pantera or Yes.
What caught me most off-guard though, was how grunge these tunes are – quiet, mumbly singing followed by loud shouting parts (and always unintelligible, buried in the mix). Granted, it’s due to Tool’s reputation as a metal band, but learning of their grunge roots, I totally get their appeal now. All those Holden Caulfields of the ‘90s alternative rock scene, desperate for heavy music that wasn’t so commercial and phony, found kinship in Keenan’s outlook, with challenging music to match. Throw in sound experiments cribbed from the industrial scene and weird, creepy visual accompaniments in videos and tours, and you’ve a grunge album unlike any other before, one that tried taking the genre down daring, new (progressive?) roads. A bold move on Tool’s part, for sure, one they could have pulled off on Ænima, if they’d spent more time on song-craft than technical masturbation.
Labels:
1996,
album,
grunge,
metal,
progressive rock,
Tool,
Zoo Entertainment
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Nirvana - In Utero
DGC: 1993
Isn’t this a nice coincidence, what with all the 20th anniversary versions of Nirvana’s third and final album floating about now? I get to enjoy being on the pulse of contemporary-retro music discussion and- oh, everyone’s already moved on from In Utero’s re-re-release (start saving for the 25th anniversary version now, kids!). In fact, it’s growing rather tiresome to hear the same ‘Nirvana changed a generation of music’ narrative trumped out every opportunity the rock media gets some loosely connected release to tie it into. I get it, Nirvana was a very important band in the world of rock, but we all know, had they (re: Kurt Cobain) kept their shit together, they’d just end up like the Foo Fighters or whatever other post-grunge act you have. Or worse, attempting nu-metal! No, not really. Ol’ Kurt would never have succumbed to that. Guy was a rocker through-and-through, but was totally caught between worlds following Nevermind. Do you maintain that slick studio polish that won you a gajillion fans, or do you prove you still have your underground roots within, untainted by money and fame.
Both, it would seem! Bringing in “I’m real punk” producer Steve Albani is as clear of intent as it gets, coercing as much raw, honest emotion from their music as they could. If you ignore the band’s legacy (hard, I know), it left an album that leaves most listeners divided, as it did way back in ’93. Between the obvious ‘grunge by numbers’ cuts like Rape Me, Dumb, and Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge On Seattle, you’re also assaulted by pure noise freakouts like Scentless Apprentice, Radio Friendly Unit Shifter, and Tourette’s. Oh, and an acoustic number at the end called All Apologies, that gained quite a bit of notoriety following Kurt’s death (was he directly apologizing to us for what was to come?). Well Hell, that’s a frustrating album to get into if you only came expecting a bunch more Heart Shaped Boxes. Or the most awesome album if you feared it’d just be a bunch more Heart Shaped Boxes. Those people tend to get divided between Nevermind or Bleach, respectively, being the true authentic Nirvana experience.
Which leaves In Utero in limbo, an album that, aside from the big hits, disappointed when it first came out. Now it’s hailed as a neglected classic, because that’s just what you do with final albums that capture a band at the height of their fame. I personally get a kick out of it, probably more the noisey thrash numbers since it’s easier to feel angry than mopey these days. Ultimately though, what we’re getting with this album is blues music for the pissed-off Gen-X crowd, which is how it’s endured when so much other grunge music hasn’t (much less get multiple anniversary re-issues). When it comes to the blues, authenticity of emotion is always key, and there were few people who came across as depressed and angry as Kurt Cobain did when this came out.
Isn’t this a nice coincidence, what with all the 20th anniversary versions of Nirvana’s third and final album floating about now? I get to enjoy being on the pulse of contemporary-retro music discussion and- oh, everyone’s already moved on from In Utero’s re-re-release (start saving for the 25th anniversary version now, kids!). In fact, it’s growing rather tiresome to hear the same ‘Nirvana changed a generation of music’ narrative trumped out every opportunity the rock media gets some loosely connected release to tie it into. I get it, Nirvana was a very important band in the world of rock, but we all know, had they (re: Kurt Cobain) kept their shit together, they’d just end up like the Foo Fighters or whatever other post-grunge act you have. Or worse, attempting nu-metal! No, not really. Ol’ Kurt would never have succumbed to that. Guy was a rocker through-and-through, but was totally caught between worlds following Nevermind. Do you maintain that slick studio polish that won you a gajillion fans, or do you prove you still have your underground roots within, untainted by money and fame.
Both, it would seem! Bringing in “I’m real punk” producer Steve Albani is as clear of intent as it gets, coercing as much raw, honest emotion from their music as they could. If you ignore the band’s legacy (hard, I know), it left an album that leaves most listeners divided, as it did way back in ’93. Between the obvious ‘grunge by numbers’ cuts like Rape Me, Dumb, and Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge On Seattle, you’re also assaulted by pure noise freakouts like Scentless Apprentice, Radio Friendly Unit Shifter, and Tourette’s. Oh, and an acoustic number at the end called All Apologies, that gained quite a bit of notoriety following Kurt’s death (was he directly apologizing to us for what was to come?). Well Hell, that’s a frustrating album to get into if you only came expecting a bunch more Heart Shaped Boxes. Or the most awesome album if you feared it’d just be a bunch more Heart Shaped Boxes. Those people tend to get divided between Nevermind or Bleach, respectively, being the true authentic Nirvana experience.
Which leaves In Utero in limbo, an album that, aside from the big hits, disappointed when it first came out. Now it’s hailed as a neglected classic, because that’s just what you do with final albums that capture a band at the height of their fame. I personally get a kick out of it, probably more the noisey thrash numbers since it’s easier to feel angry than mopey these days. Ultimately though, what we’re getting with this album is blues music for the pissed-off Gen-X crowd, which is how it’s endured when so much other grunge music hasn’t (much less get multiple anniversary re-issues). When it comes to the blues, authenticity of emotion is always key, and there were few people who came across as depressed and angry as Kurt Cobain did when this came out.
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