SadGirl - Vol. 3 - Head To The Mountains

self release: 2016

You gotta' hand it to Bandcamp newsletters: they are committed to deep dives within the website's archives, unearthing potential up-and-comers so you don't have to. I can't imagine the soul-sucking experience it must be, sifting through so many amateur musicians, some of which have clearly just cracked open their first freeware producing studio and uploaded their first sessions onto the website in the hopes of a few takes. Not that Bandcamp is anywhere near as bad as Soundcloud in this regard – I'd like to think Bandcamp is where artists release the material they at least believe has some potential of actual money being earned from it – but how many mediocre items must the newsletter writers go through before stumbling upon something worth consideration of a spotlight? Why, it's just like the street 'zines of old!

For sure I'd never have had SadGirl brought to my attention without one such Bandcamp newsletter. Indie rock with influences of archaic surf rock is so far outside my usual wheelhouse, I wouldn't have any clue where to start looking for a fix, much less the commitment to do the necessary digging. If a Bandcamp newsletter promoting surf rockers on their website claims this is a band worth checking out though, then by g'ar I'll check 'em out. Or a tidy little EP on the cheap at least.

And had I first heard the opening song Going Down without that recommendation, I probably would have skipped on by. There's nothing wrong with it, of course, indie rock that's enamoured with the scraggly aesthetics of '60s garage rock and all the punky attributes that'd be adopted in later decades. There's even some nifty echo and reverb on those guitar tones, though nothing that gives me those 'surf' feels, y'know? What's always drawn me to this genre is the open vista it creates with its sonics, and Going Down feels like its still sprung from the tiny rock halls SadGirl cut their mustard in. But hey, they're at least Californian, so some ties to the surf and all.

Nothing sells the punk vibe more than a one-minute ten follow-up in Drowning though, and Someone Else's Skin is a right noisy little number too. I like it fine, I guess, and there's some cool, wavy, echoing solo action, but still not really what I was expecting out of a surf rock newsletter recommendation. Fortunately, we have The Hand That Did The Deed, one of those jangly instrumental ditties that's as much spaghetti Western rock as it is surf rock – the two were synonymous back in the day anyway. Up to this day too, come to think of it. Desperado rock. That's the name it should be called. Someone should make a guide to classic rock to make the name authoritative.

So this EP wasn't what I expected or hoped for, not really convincing me SadGirl was actually a contemporary surf rock band. And yet, I still went and ordered their debut album, Water. Go figure.

Green Day - Insomniac

Reprise Records: 1995

Because I know y'all are just dying to know before I get into this album, let's get my relationship with Green Day out of the way. Yes, I was age appropriate to like them when Dookie came out, and even had a mixtape with the obvious hits on it. No, it's not so surprising considering that was my lone, obligatory 'rock tape', which included such popular acts like The Offspring, Nirvana, and Beastie Boys. And when Geek Stink Breath was about to premier on MuchMusic, the hype did its job in getting me to check it out, after which I went “ewww...!” I pretty much forgot about Green Day after that, as did most of my peers. A couple dedicated souls still followed them, but most of the punk kids I knew started following the likes of Rancid, NOFX, Propagandhi, Lagwagon... basically anyone on Fat Wreck Chords. And aside from that song that everyone was surprised was a Green Day song, I ignored them until American Idiot dropped. I thought it a brilliant album, and even considered picking it up, but its lead singles became just as overplayed as the stuff from Dookie. I've since only kept tabs on their career out of continued curiosity than any interest in their music. So, y'know, a pretty typical story.

The fact that I almost bought one of Green Day's most critically hailed albums may not be that surprising, though I'm sure y'all are wondering why I now have a comparatively forgotten album of theirs. No, wait, you already know the drill – former owner offloading CDs, and I gotta' collect 'em all! Strange that he'd have Insomniac and not Dookie; did he keep a few?

Anyhow, I actually kind of like this album, more so than the agreed-upon best ones like Dookie and American Idiot. Whatever you think of Green Day overall, you cannot deny they know their way around a pop-punk riff and catchy hook, and Insomniac has several that I haven't heard in ages, don't get overplayed on classic rock stations (oh God, I so old), and don't really stay in my head afterwards. Wait, is that a good thing?

I'll never forget the video for Geek Stink Breath (ewww...!), but dang, how did I forget just how catchy the tune is? That brisk build in Panic Song reminds me of some of the best old-timey punk bands with actual talented musicians on them, and I guess Walking Contradiction is fun enough as an closer single. But yeah, hearing a bunch of unfamiliar Green Day songs is better than hearing Basket Case, Holiday, or When I Come Around for the zillionth time.

That's all I have to say about Insomniac. Most of these songs breeze by as punchy punk is want to do, and it's still a genre of music I generally don't make time for. This was a fun diversion, but not likely a CD I'll be playing again for a few years.

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.

Tricky - Maxinquaye

Island Records: 1995

Tricky was my first exposure to trip-hop, via Deep Forest of all groups. The world beat duo provided music for the 1995 cyberpunk thriller Strange Days, and Teenage Sykonee being the throes of ethno-pop at the time, eagerly checked the movie out. Cannot deny I was also quite intrigued by the Kathryn Bigelow film on its concept, a look into the near future of the year 2000, and what the End Of The Millennium might hold.

It seems so quaint now, the fear that things would somehow catastrophically and abruptly end just after 11:59pm of December 31, 1999, and I’m not just talking that silly Y2K Bug thing. Nay, Strange Days depicted a society where, with the right kind of angle, seemed on the verge of utter collapse, a powder keg of racial strife and decadent decay, easily lit with but a single, reckless act of senseless, bigoted brutality. I have to admit Ms. Bigelow teased such an eruption so expertly throughout the movie, I actually believed the prophetic Millennial Apocalypse was nigh at the movie’s climax. Yet, clearer heads prevailed, the ‘eruption’ but a ‘scritch’ overall. Ms. Bigelow was smart, knowing Y2K paranoia was much ado about nothing. No, the real problems wouldn’t start until 16 years after! (Sorry, but it’s difficult not getting topical and political right now)

Tricky’s debut Maxinquaye is hailed as one of the shining moments of trip-hop’s mid-‘90s peak, in large part because it’s barely a trip-hop album at all. True, he helped Massive Attack set the template of the genre, and there’s definitely some all-time classic trip-hop class on here. Overcome, the opening track - and tune featured in the Strange Days soundtrack (relevancy!) – works a sultry, dubby, tribal thump, losing itself in the grit of inner city lust and doubt. Aftermath, his debut single, was initially intended for Massive Attack, but the lads behind Attack said ‘nay’ to that one, a shame because it would have fit marvelously into their canon.

That rejection, plus feeling generally stagnant within the group, prompted Tricky to pursue his solo ventures. He had plenty of ideas in his head, but not much production capability on his own though. Enter producer Mark Saunders, who somehow stitched together Tricky’s wayward muse into comprehensible music. Soul, punk, hip-hop, dub, and all manner of sample-heavy abstraction fill Maxinquaye, leaving you unsure where it’s going at any given time. The vocal dynamic between Tricky’s subdued conscious raps and cooing of singer/life partner Martina Topley-Bird fuels the sense of life on the skids, a scattershot collage of hopes and paranoia, lust and despair.

I probably can’t prop this album up any more than the UK press did at the time (holy cow, the hyperbole!), but as one of the seminal trip-hop albums of the era, this “not trip-hop” record definitely earned its spot among the Blue Lines and Dummys. It’s confrontational compared to the others, but that makes it all the more intriguing as a whole, as you decrypt the angst within.

Various - Journeys By DJ: Coldcut - 70 Minutes Of Madness

Music Unites/Journeys By DJ™ LLC: 1995/2002

It’s rare that a DJ mix series is hijacked by a contributor to such a degree, they become solely associated with it. For sure you have game changers, as James Holden and Joris Voorn did with the Balance series. Or some jocks become synonymous with a series due to endless entries into its canon (the forever Nick Warren & Deep Dish show that Global Underground became). Journeys By DJ already had six volumes under its belt by the time Coldcut came along with their seventy minutes of madness, including entries from John Digweed, Paul Oakenfold, DJ Rap, and Danny Rampling. Heck, even Judge Jules beat More and Black to the “30+ Tracks Set” when he put out his mix for the series. Yet these days everyone always assumes Journeys By DJ was a Coldcut one-off, future entries by Gilles Peterson and Jay Chappell even less remarked upon. So impactful was this mix, that it alone received the re-issue treatment in 2002. Oh come on, Billy Nasty’s set wasn’t bad, was it?

Still, you can’t knock the result, 70 Minutes Of Madness easily earning its Classic Status as a DJ mix CD for the ages. They didn’t just rinse out a pile of similar tunes, but studio-mashed tons of disparate sounds, styles, and genres into a megamix of their super-deep crates. Junior Reed hangin’ with Newcleus! Harold Budd pallin’ about with Photek! Plastikman getting funky with Jedi Knights! Air Liquide trippin’ balls with Bob Holroyd! The Dr. Who theme just being all awesome-sauce no matter who’s around it (Red Snapper, The Sabres Of Paradise, and Jimmy Cauty, if you must know). Not to mention a shit-ton of breaks, beats, pieces, scratching, cross-cutting, and acapella action littered throughout. Coldcut were already regarded as masters of the one-n-two, but typically translated their skill into producing DJ tools and sample-heavy songs. This was the first time they got into the studio for a commercial mix CD showcasing their DJ trade – well, second, if you count Tone Tales From Tomorrow a year prior – knocking it out of the park so hard, they practically abandoned this particular market forever after. A shame, as I’d love to hear what another 70 Minutes Of Madness might entail with over two decades worth of gathered new weapons within their coffers.

Possibly the most outrageous thing about this set is how it bucks conventional set construction. The opening salvo including The Truper (Photek), Wagon Christ, and Funki Porcini (with Dillinja on the rub) features some of the most frenetic ragga jungle you’d ever hear in 1995, all within the first ten minutes! You’d think the set could only go down in energy from there, but tons of acid, funk, and breakin’ action maintain an even keel for the most part. Even with sporadic downtime throughout this set, Coldcut never lose the plot, coming back with a new avenue of music to explore. Throw in a final forty seconds of the needle riding out the last record grooves? Yeah, vinyl bliss.

The Clash - London Calling

Epic: 1979/1999

The only Clash album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a fan of The Clash. Am I ever saying that a lot lately, eh? Sure is good thing I’m filling in all these essential blanks in my music collection, lest folks think mine’s not worthy for consideration. Pft, my four-digit numbers is plenty ‘nuff for wide-eye glances, especially following the common question of “Is it all ‘techno’?” Why no, it actually isn’t! Like, there’s some orchestral soundtracks floating about, plus a jazz box-set somewhere in there too. And ooh, look at that shelf dedicated to rock music. Ain’t much ‘techno’ about that stuff, amirite? But yes, I know there are tons of essential classics in the rock pantheon that I’m supposed to have, despite the genre far from my highest digging priority. Why should I need too though, when I have friends consistently offloading their old CDs these days?

As for London Calling, yeah, this is one of the big ones, a game changer in the world of punk rock. The Clash were already critical darlings of the UK scene, but they had quite a bit of competition too, the market quickly flooded with copycats and would-be rebellious ‘yoof’ starting up their own rickety band railing against the powers that be. Hell, even seasoned musicians were getting in on that action, punk soon showcasing a remarkable swath of skill. From the deliberately sloppy Sex Pistols to the crafty song writing of The Police, there was seemingly almost no limit to what you could with the genre. No wonder ‘post-punk’ quickly morphed from this influx of creativity.

The Clash fit comfortably smack in the middle of it all, capably kicking out punk’s lineage of throwback rockabilly and hard rock while pushing the boundaries of genre fusion with ska, reggae, and R&B. They had no problem performing stupid simple tunes like Brand New Cadillac, but were fearless in getting politically charged and topical, showing a sense of maturity in their music mostly devoid in the ramshackle reactionary tropes of most punk. And boy, talk of hubris, showing no fear in delivering the world’s first double-LP punk album. Because ain’t no way they’re leaving those Jamaican nods Rudie Can’t Fail and the Guns Of Brixton out.

Considering punk was a reaction against the double-LP concept prog rock adored, that The Clash went this route for their third album is deliciously cheeky. The fact there’s not a duff cut for the duration of London Calling is amazing, nary a track coming off as pointless or over-indulgent filler. Also consider but two singles were released from these nineteen songs, the titular tune and closer Train In Vain (the second most famous Clash song), the sort of situation that dooms most albums from replay value. Yet I dare you to skip anything from London Calling, just to get to that final track. Doubt you do it, not with so many choice tunes in between. Top ten all time rock albums? Yeah, I buy that.

Various - Empire Records: The Soundtrack

A&M Records: 1995

A ‘90s movie centered on the exploits of a record store seemingly run by teenagers? Pft, pass. Hackers was my regrettable tackle at Gen-X culture, though if Empire Records’ soundtrack had focused on techno instead of alternative rock, maybe I’d have paid it attention. Look, my dedication to electronic music was unshakable, ain’t no way Teenage Sykonee would sway to the sounds his younger sister indulged in. Ooh, wait, sis’, can I borrow that Beastie Boys Ill Communication CD inexplicably in your collection? I need Sabotage for a mixtape.

No, I didn’t get this soundtrack from her (she did have it though). This comes from another lady of comparable age, and it seems several grown gals have a thing for Empire Records. It’s gotta’ be because of Liv Tyler on the cover, wearing that impossibly cute, navel-exposing blue fuzz sweater and plaid mini-skirt, holding back with authori-tah a rag-tag group of peers, co-workers, besties and frienemies. The Ethan Hawke-hot sensitive friend, the promiscuous blonde, the Pauly Shore quirky guy, the nihilistic authentic Gen-X philosopher, the kinda’ gothic depressive. Mmm… Robin Tunney, with or without shaved head…

I get the sense folks remember Empire Records for what they think the movie represents (alas, their youth!), rather than what actually happens in the movie. Because not a whole lot happens in the movie, and most of what does happen is so filled with stock teenage-lite comedy situations and tropes, you could plunk these characters and plot into any setting and it’d tell the same story. A video store, a restaurant, a civic centre, an arcade, wherever it is teenagers go for employed hang-outs now. The angle of a record store is wholly wasted, no one giving insight into the retail music industry or tunes they’re playing and supposedly enjoying. Not that it’s the fault of the scriptwriter or actors, Empire Records striking me as the sort of movie studio-meddled to make it as appealing to the broad teenage demographic as possible. Heck, the soundtrack probably wasn’t even finalized before shooting began, so how could there be any dialog regarding these Gen-X jams of the day?

Even the collection of tunes is lackluster as a cultural touchstone. Some notable markers do make the cut, like The Cranberries, Gin Blossoms, Better Than Ezra, and Toad The Wet Sprocket. Edwyn Collins’ A Girl Like You was a memorable hit at the time (so Bowie!), while it’s hard to forget the movie-climax performance of cast member Coyote Shivers’ Sugarhigh. With a surefire teen hit on their hands (*cough*), A&M Records hoped Empire Records would expose some of their obscure acts (Drill, Lustre, Ape Hangers, Innocence Mission). Much of it sounds like stock alternative rock, punk, and folk of the mid-’90s to my ears, with many of these bands not doing anything beyond the era (so sayeth The Discogs). But hey, nostalgia for even the blandest of ‘90s paraphernalia can get you vinyl reissues these days. Do they have the Liv Tyler ensemble at Hot Topic too?

ACE TRACKS: April 2016

How we handlin’ all these diversions, then? Not too painful I hope, getting some fresh perspectives and insights into artists and genres so seldom touched upon here. And hey, it helps with diversification, broadening the blog’s appeal beyond the familiar, perhaps even luring in a few new, unexpected eyes in the process. That’s a good thing, right? Judging by the numbers, reviewing other people’s former collections has paid off. Who knew folks would be more interested in Bob Dylan records than Yet Another Psy Dub CD? Still, this backtrack’s got some distance to go, only just wrapping up the ‘C’s. Those ‘Tr’s are far away yet, friends, so very very far away. Patience, my lovelies. Here, have some ACE TRACKS from this past month of April!



Full track list here.


MISSING ALBUMS:
Claude Young - Celestial Bodies
Various - Time Warp Compilation 07: Loco Dice
B.G. The Prince Of Rap - The Time Is Now

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 11%
Percentage of Rock: 32%
Most “WTF?” Track: Probably something from Alphaxone. Take your pick of mind-peeling creepiness digging its tendrils through your ear membranes.

This has to be the most diverse playlist I’ve put together yet. Well, not including The Ultimate Master List. Even doing a lazy alphabetical arrangement generated quite a few interesting contrasts throughout. Possibly the smallest percentage of electronic music too, in lieu of all that rock and folk material. And when I do get to the digital realms, it’s almost always ambient music. Even the techno guys (Claude Young) or ‘future garage’ guys (Synkro) go ambient here. Can’t say things are gonna’ be much different in the coming month either.

Beastie Boys - Check Your Head

Capitol Records: 1992

Either the most important Beastie Boys album, or the most forgotten Beastie Boys album, depending on who you ask. Most folks fall into the latter category, and for good reason: Check Your Head generally lacks a variety of things that made their other LPs so memorable. There’s none of the instantly recognizable hits like Fight For Your Right from Licensed To Ill, Sabotage from Ill Communication, or Intergalactic from Hello Nasty. So What’cha Want was the only single that charted, and barely so at that. Hell, for the longest time, I didn’t even realize the track was from this album. For some reason I mistook it for a Paul’s Boutique or Ill Communication cut despite hard evidence to the contrary. Maybe the title’s just been so oft repeated and sampled, I never clued in it was an actual song itself.

Even the scant ’00 albums get more talking points than Check Your Head. Though folks were divided on the merits of To The 5 Boroughs’ throw-back hip-hop, the Beasties were at least praised for sticking to the concept in face of so many changes within their scene. And Hot Sauce Committee… well, that was gonna’ get talked about no matter what. For all intents, the history most know of the Beastie Boys goes like: “GROUNDBREAKING ‘80s! Something with live instruments. The SABOTAGE video! Moar awesome videos from Hello Nasty, with robots and ninjas! Content old geezers doing raps whenever between Buddhism. Aww, man, MCA died? That sucks.” Poor Check Your Head, barely a name check.

Still, this was the first album the Beasties produced themselves, which is note worthy for sure, but doesn’t illicit the same reverent discussion that Rick Rubin on Licensed To Ill or The Dust Brothers on Paul’s Boutique do. Nonetheless, Ad-Rock, MCA, and Mike D returned to playing their own instruments rather than pilfer coffers of records for samples. A good thing too when they did, legalities involving cribbing other people’s music turning incredibly costly in the courts. Time to start making your own beats and riffs, drawing influence of the multitude of funk, punk, jazz-unk, and turntable trickery they grew up around. They must have had these tunes building in their head for some time too, the music tight and fluid throughout. Shame they neglected including the rappity-raps half the time.

That’s the angle most approach Check Your Head from when claiming this their most important album. It marks an evolution of the Beasties from a three-piece white boy posse with witty, hilarious immature lyrics into Serious Musicians. They aren’t so concerned with wordplay as they are with musical interplay, and had yet to really branch out into experimentation as they would in Ill Communication. They still find time for a few back-n-forth cuts (Jimmy James, Pass The Mic, Finger Lickin’ Good, So What’cha Want, Professor Booty), but they’re outliers to all the funk jams throughout Check Your Head. It’s like the boys were all growed up now. Peace out in dub with Namaste.

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

Verve Records: 1989

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

Wow, see what I mean?

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

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

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

Sublime - 40oz. To Freedom

Skunk Records/Gasoline Alley Records: 1992/1996

Practically the sole reason we get to hear Smash Mouth covers in kid’s movies now, these guys. Maybe the So-Cal ska scene would have pounded the late ‘90s pop charts regardless, bands like No Doubt and Sugar Ray inevitable. When folks namedrop their (admittedly small) lists of Very Important American Ska Bands though, Sublime is almost always at the top, regional legends that inspired many groups to fuse their own offerings of punk and reggae without a care in the world. By the time wider North America was ready to fully hop on the Sublime paddy-van though, lead singer and guitarist Brad Nowell had sadly succumbed to his struggles with heroin, effectively putting an end to the group. Right as they broke through the mainstream with the single What I Got. Right as the ska scene was set to capitalize as it never had before or since. That takes some serious heart and personal ethics for members Bud Gaugh and Eric Wilson, disbanding the band in respect for their fallen comrade. Besides, they could still make bank on their small back-catalog anyway.

Even though ska was barely an afterthought of popularity in the early ‘90s, it’s easy to hear why Sublime caught on the way they did. The band could effortlessly switch between reggae offshoots and thrash punk, sometimes even within the same song. Throw in nods to hip-hop along the way, and you’ve a sound that’s never pigeon-holed into any specific scene, yet remains appealing to fans of either genre. Sealing it though, was Sublime’s heavy emphasis on detailing all the carefree, irresponsible down-in-the-dumps aspects of lower-class life in Southern California. Wiling the days away getting stoned, getting drunk, hooking up and miserably breaking up, wandering from house party to trailer party to skate park party to gig party, yet all with a sunny disposition as only ska music can provide. These guys may be on the skids, but damn if they don’t sound like it’s a fun time being there. Hell, this debut album of theirs was practically all recorded by breaking into a studio in its off hours, only adding to the reckless living allure many a skater, pothead, and general teenager of the ‘90s gave ‘em.

As a debut, 40oz. To Freedom is an incredibly strong album, giving us a taste of the Sublime stylee in spades. Ska! Reggae! Punk! Hip-Hop! Blues? Koom-baya sing-along’s? Whatever, this was the soundtrack to many a house party across the Western seaboard, steadily gaining popularity as everyone who came within earshot had to get a copy for themselves (and their own house parties), seeing several re-issues along the way. Once MCA picked the band up for wider distribution, a few tracks and samples were removed due to copyright claims, and it became a point of pride if you could boast having an original ’92 version in your hands. Being down with Sublime before anyone knew of them and all. I, ah, don’t have such a copy. I t’was no skater.

The Police - Reggatta de Blanc

A&M Records: 1979

With Reggatta de Blanc, The Police went from catchy punk oddities to catchy ‘cod reggae’ oddities, and scored the big number one on the UK charts in doing so. Man, why do so many ‘reggae by white rock groups’ always hit the charts like that? I can see it happening the late ‘70s, when reggae was growing in popularity, but that trend continues to this day. Why don’t folks vibe on the authentic stuff more? It’s not like understanding the lyrics is crucial or anything – I sure can’t understand what them Jamaicans are going on about most of the time. At least The Police had the sense approaching the genre with both respect and tongue planted firmly in cheek, fully admitting in the title of the album that, yes, you’re in for some ‘white reggae’ (and a little post-punk).

This is The Police album no one’s embarrassed having in their collection. Like, Outlandos might be a bit too punky, Zenyatta a bit too simple, Ghost a bit too weird, and Synchronicity a bit too ‘80s, but Reggatta? Everyone loves that one, even if they only remember a few songs off of it. Message In A Bottle is the big one though, scoring the band their first number one single in the UK, plus Top 10 in several others (not in America though – guess they’d yet to catch onto reggae-rock). It’s hard denying the song craft involved in this one, an instantly memorable guitar hook complemented by some of Copeland’s best drumming and one of Sting’s all-time greatest pieces of lyricism. You can take the tale literally, of an unlucky chap lost at sea, or metaphorically, a sad soul alone in the world, each equally vivid in its narration. I’m not just blowing smoke up The Police’s asses either, each member often claiming Message In A Bottle one of their finest moments as a band.

That tight musicianship is prevalent throughout Reggatta de Blanc, even with a rather slap-dash approach to writing. Story goes they didn’t have much idea of an album going in, running with whatever material they could come up with on the fly. Fortunately, they hang off so many winning hooks and lyrics throughout, their musical indulgences are allowed. Give us all that weightless reverb in Walking On The Moon! Mr. Summers, you go right ahead with those rhythmic reverb diddly-dos on your guitar in The Bed’s Too Big Without You! Mr. Copeland, all those wonderful drum fills in Deathwish, don’t you stop! And boys, with the titular cut, what a build!

Mind you, this isn’t a perfect album by any means. The punk holdovers like It’s Alright For You and No Time This Time aren’t as good as the Outlandos material, and Copeland’s novelty tunes (hilariously cynical On Any Other Day, bass-fuzz Contact, and piano ditty Does Everyone Stare) are strictly fans-only. With such a timeless cut like Message In A Bottle on hand though, it’s hard not becoming a fan of The Police thereafter.

ACE TRACKS: April 2014

I had a good writing groove going for myself recently. Then a brutal weekend of work on a six-day stretch ruined that – now my brain feels like it’s taken an arrow in the ear. Oh well, at least I can still make Spotify Deezer playlists. Here’s April 2014’s big ol’ bundle.



Full track list here.

MISSING ALBUMS:
Various - Musik Non Stop
Prince - Musicology
Nobuo Uematsu - Music From FFV And FFVI Video Games
Various - Moving Shadow 99.1 & 99.2
Various - Motion: A Six Degrees Dance Collection
Various - Mortal Kombat: Annihilation
Various - Mortal Kombat
Banco de Gaia - Maya (20th Anniversary Edition)

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 7%
Percentage of Neil Young: 0%
Most “WTF?” Track: unknown - Izlel je Delyo hajdutin (sooo ethnic)

Though the actual releases are not on Spotify Deezer, this playlist has an abundance of tracks from The Music Of ‘Cosmos' and Muzik Classics: Techno. This makes for a weird combination of incredible diversity with batches of similarity – this, in a collection of tunes that’s already freewheeling through more styles of music than you can imagine. It’s remarkable that, despite having classic albums from The Prodigy, Photek, Boards Of Canada, and Solar Fields, their music gets a little lost amongst the symphonic compositions, dub techno, and harder rock.

This is also the longest playlist I’ve put together, clocking well over the eleven hour mark. Obviously that’s the full tracklist, but even without the missing tracks, it’s a lengthy listening experience. I honestly haven’t even given this one a full play-through as of this posting, sequencing tracks based on quick clips and gut intuition. If I’ve stumbled upon some amazing run of unexpected groupings, I assure you it’s almost accidental, perhaps sublimely or hilariously so. Reason enough to fire this playlist up, to sate your own curiosity of the result, I wager!

The Police - Outlandos d'Amour

A&M Records: 1978/2003

Punk music’s emergence and growth has long been attributed to a youthful counter-reaction to rock’s growing pomposity within prog and jazz-fusion. Looking at some of the biggest bands of the era – The Ramones, Sex Pistols, The Clash, Black Flag, namedrop, namedrop, namedrop – the image that scene cultivated certainly supports the theory. Then you get a trio like The Police, also influenced by punk music, but fronted by musicians that had almost nothing to do with it. Okay, they did have a scrappy start, with financial and critical support so miniscule, you’d think they were a go-nowhere garage band. Plus, it was no secret Sting, Stewart Copeland, and Andy Summers came from the very same prog and jazz-fusion scenes the punk movement so vehemently railed against, seemingly bandwagon jumpers as the music hit its first crossover peak. All in all, The Police had everything working against them, except one key, critical attribute: insanely awesome talent.

They may not have been punk in the strictest sense, but they understood what made that music work. Even better, they could fuse it with other genres like reggae and, yes, jazz, such that it gave their songs remarkable depth for a three-piece act. Seriously, focus on how unique each member sounds – Sting's bass leads, Copeland's dynamic drumming, Summers' playful guitar work – and marvel how well they play off each other.

Of course, that skill initially worked against The Police, many dismissing the debut album Outlandos D'Amour as too slick and polished for a supposed punk band (even with a shoe-string budget and erratic studio time). Even more curiously, their lead singles of Roxanne and Can't Stand Losing You were banned from radio play, dealing with such taboo subjects like prostitution and suicide as they were. On the other hand, if you're ever to gain traction in a counter-culture music scene, being banned from prominent broadcasters was the best way of going about it, and sure enough The Police found their fame growing exponentially soon after. As if a capper on the point, Outlandos D'Amour is now regarded as one of the greatest rock albums of all time. So fickle, the music press.

A few killer singles does not a great album make, however, and you don't need me to tell you how these tunes sound – just turn on your classic rock radio station to hear them once or thrice a day. Instead, gander at some of these less-heralded tunes! Peanuts, a peppy-punk outing that hilariously has Sting shouting “Peanuts! Peanuts!” at the end. Be My Girl and Sally, one a mere pop-punk chorus interrupted by a goofy poem-and-piano bit about a blow-up doll. Masoka Tanga, a... ska jam? Oh, now you're just messing with us, Police man!

Outlandos D'Armour's a fun album, all said. The Police were as tight a band as any of the time, and were still all about having fun with their music, a few years off from getting all socially conscious and shit.

The Prodigy - Music For The Jilted Generation

XL Recordings: 1994

Probably the most successful reboot of a musical act ever accomplished, at least within the world of electronic music. Several have tried re-invention or adopted alternate aliases to explore other genres, but The Prodigy's flip from chart-topping happy rave hardcore act to credible guardians of the underground party is nothing short of remarkable. Just a couple years prior, everyone associated them with fun goofball hits like Charly and Out Of Space. Then, seemingly overnight, they're confronting you with punk attitudes and music to match. The Prodigy never lost their hardcore, they snatched it back from those who'd turned it into a joke.

What’s amazing about Music For The Jilted Generation is, while clearly a ‘90s album, it somehow exists out of time too. You throw on Experience, and you instantly know it’s of the early ‘90s hardcore scene. Fat Of The Land is undeniably part of big beat’s major market push, and anything released post-Millennium sounds exactly like that. The music on this album, however, didn’t have a scene to itself, and never would because no one tried emulating Jilted Generation - with any success anyway.

I suppose you could mark some tunes like Their Law and Poison as proto-big-beat, but what of the other tracks? Liam Howlett’s still using high-energy breakbeats, but rather than coupling them with rolling pianos and chipmunk vocals, you get synths that snarl, guitars that thrash, and rhythms that’ll have you moshing just as much as flailing. Plus, Jilted Generation’s pacing is impeccable, great memorable tunes like Break & Enter and Voodoo People interspersed perfectly with uptempo filler techno. Believe me, I use the word ‘filler’ as a good thing here, Full Throttle, Speedway and The Heat (The Energy) the simplistic musical ebbs that propel No Good and Poison into the standouts they are within Jilted. It was bloody rare in ’94 for a ‘techno-rave’ album showing such consideration to tracklisting.

Then there’s the Narcotic Suite at the end, a thematic run of the ups and downs of drug indulgences. If, following the rest of Jilted Generation, there were still doubts that ol’ Liam was just a one-trick production pony, this trilogy firmly proved otherwise. The evening starts chill and relaxed with acid jazz vibes of 3 Kilos, then we’re flying high into blissy energy with Skylined. Oh dear, we took too much, feeling that Claustophobic Sting, twisted acid and sketchy paranoia setting in as “my mind is going”. Where the fuck is that sinister laughter coming from! When folks bemoan The Prodigy just aren’t as good as they used to be, the Narcotic Suite is always one such example why, Howlett never recreating something of this nature since.

The same can be said for Jilted Generation as a whole, the album a clear bridge from where The Prodigy started to the next stage of their act. It could have resulted in a messy, hodge-podge LP of uncertain genre tests. Instead, it’s some of the best work of their career.

The Offspring - Ixnay On The Hombre

Columbia: 1997

I'm going to lose a lot of punk credibility, but The Offspring's– wait a minute, what punk cred' do I have? Aside from electronic music's 'digital punks' The Prodigy and Gorillaz, I haven’t come within a hair of that scene – and no, I don't have any Alex Empire either. I did grow up around the stuff, many of my musically inclined associates learning to play Green Day riffs and such. Hanging out with Peter Punk and Oliver Oi’ provided enough exposure to the music, constant rotations of Epitaph and Fat Wreck Chords filling whatever need I could have as a teen. Oh, and a pair of songs from The Offspring’s Smash made it onto a mixtape. What can I say, that album was freakin’ huge in 1994.

Right, so any real hardcore punks reading this (oh ho-ho-ho!) are biting their thumbs at what constituted a punk scene where I grew up. “Green Day? NOFX? Bunch’a fuckin’ mainstream pop shite, they are, mate,” says the street rat with liberty spikes. Fair enough sentiments from the hardcore, but even in the pop-punk side of things, lines were being drawn. Smash’s popularity quickly led to Offspring burn-out, such that when Ixnay On The Hombre came out, it didn’t sell as spectacularly as their breakout. Of course, by the time Americana was released, a new generation of high school kids were won over by the band’s pop-punk charms. Shame The Offspring couldn’t pull the same trick a third time, but by then emo was all the rock-kids rage.

Where was I again? Oh yeah, that punk credibility thing. The Offspring's Ixnay On The Hombre is a far better album of punk and rock than most would expect, with an opening salvo of The Meaning Of Life and Mota kicking all sorts of ass. I gotta play these whenever I need firing up to do anything. Hell, even doing the dishes sounds awesome while thrashing away to Mota!

The Offspring do show some musical diversity throughout, getting funkier with Me & My Old Lady and I Choose, slower with Gone Away (reminding me of Tears For Fears), and regular ol’ rocky with Amazed, which is nice for album pacing. Let’s be honest though, these guys are at their best when they tear out with the damned ear-wormiest hooks around. Despite many of the songs’ topics coming off immature (though I’m pretty sure Cool To Hate’s supposed to be ironic), you can’t help but get caught up in the energy of their music.

Speaking of which, holy shit, I had no idea All I Want was on this album! The tune’s hopelessly ingrained into my noggin’, as I’m sure anyone that’s played copious amounts of Crazy Taxi can attest to. Man, I was boss at that game.

I doubt anyone reading this on an electronic music blog cares to check out Ixnay On The Hombre on a whim. If you’re feeling daring though, it’s certainly not a bad place to get acquainted with the punk scene.

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.

Beastie Boys - Ill Communication

EMI Music Canada: 1994

The Beastie Boys had been in the music business nearly a decade by the time Ill Communication hit the streets, utterly thriving in the world of hip-hop where a three-piece whiteboy posse should have miserably failed. Still, ten years is more than enough time for the rap game to see change, and much had in their region: Eastcoast-Westcoast rivalries heating up, gangsta rap emerging as the new hotness, and fresh New York-based upstarts like Wu-Tang Clan, Nas, and Notorious B.I.G. challenging the old guard. And what's with this DJ Premier guy, sampling all these jazzy loops as a counter to the g-funk of the left side of America? Well shit, son, the Beasties are actual musicians. If that’s the way things are going, why not forget drum machines and raiding the past for samples? Start making your own original jams. Ain't no one doing that in hip-hop, is there? (Guru, but whatever)

And that’s what they did done. Throughout this album, you get funky Big Apple jazz licks galore, nearly a third of which are pure instrumentals. What is this, a blaxploitation soundtrack? Nah, guy, but it’s definitely a throw-back of sorts to the music the Boys undoubtedly grew up surrounded by in the ‘70s. The cheesy cop caper video for Sabotage was hardly a one-off fancy on their part; rather, part of a larger whole that is the homage to that era.

The Beastie Boys don’t let the b-boy antics fall by the wayside though. Root Down, Sure Shot, Freak Freak, and Alright Hear This find them as sharp as ever, with beats – whether sampled or played live by Mike D – keeping the boom-bap ever fresh. The star, however, has to be Get It Together featuring Q-Tip of A Tribe Called Quest, a perfect meeting ground of old and (then) new Eastcoast hip-hop. The Boys were clued into what was shaking up within the Five Boroughs, even if their music didn’t always reflect it.

Yet, with all these positives, Ill Communication tends to get overlooked when discussion of Beastie Boys albums comes up. About all most folks know of it is that Sabotage is the big tune (wedged between Root Down and Get It Together no less, for an excellent string of tracks!), which is unfortunate but understandable. As the Beasties had entered that ‘experimental’ stage most long-running music groups go through, there’s ample genres indulged in here. Second track Tough Guy is a pure punk freakout, and while Sabotage oozes thrash rock too, going that far off the hip-hop road must of turned some heads away. Or what about the Bhudda chant funk-jam fusion of Shambala, delved even further in follow-up Bodhisattva Vow? Who do the Beasties think they are, Banco de Gaia? Darn Tibeten muses.

As such, the musical explorations renders Ill Communication somewhat lower on the “Repeated Play-Through” totem for most. It’s still an essential part of any fan’s collection though, so if you haven’t done got on this yet, then go get her done.

Gorillaz - Gorillaz

EMI Music Canada: 2001

While we're still on the subject of Del, let's talk about the project that propelled him from underground darling to crossover star ...kind of. While Gorillaz had been in developmental stages between co-creators Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett for a few years, it wasn't until Albarn teamed up with Dan The Automator and Del during the Deltron 3030 sessions that a pair of proper tunes were cut as lead singles. And hoo, what a kick-off it was, Clint Eastwood becoming one of the biggest tunes of 2001. In fact, Gorillaz never topped it, though some will argue Feel Good Inc. from Demon Days was a stronger song as far as Gorillaz hits are concerned. Still, Gorillaz was Albarn’s baby, yet despite Del’s involvement being rendered to something of a footnote in the cartoon band’s long history of guest collaborations, his raps remain the most iconic of them. Not bad for portraying a ghost in the Gorillaz’ quirky, fictional history.

That cartoon mythology is what’s enabled Gorillaz to endure in the public consciousness for over a decade now. While Albarn and Hewlett had a definite motivation in the group’s creation (“Fuck the charts, let’s make anti-pop ‘pop’ music!” …something like that), it eventually turned into an indulgent exercise in mainstream music exploration. It’s difficult to pin the group down to a tidy genre, because Albarn enjoyed the freedom such a project offered. That said, lo-fi hip-hop splashed with punk attitude is as best a starting point as one can hope for.

For a ‘group’ that’s been portrayed as very rock orientated (or at least would be if band-leader Murdoc had his way more often), Gorillaz can be startling upon first listen due to the lack of it. Only Punk is about as straight-forward rock as this album gets, with 5/4 adding chiptune-bleeps and fuzzy bass distortion, and M1 A1’s long, paranoid build-up hiding the song’s typical Albarn rock-anthem climax. There are hints of it here and there, but melded with trippy psychedelia and hip-hop beats so often, you’d think this was a proper Dan The Automator album rather him just being a supporting producer. Perhaps ol’ Damon wasn’t confident with this style of music yet, allowing Dan to dictate much of the album’s direction.

The music’s wonderfully diverse, and so is the tone. Melancholic musers like Starshine and Tomorrow Comes Today offer one end of the spectrum; at the other, upbeat party tunes like Rock The House, Latin Simone (ooh, love that shuffling rhythm!), and summery bubble-gum pop of 19-2000. And while the hit Clint Eastwood is immediate, other subtle tunes like New Genious, Man Research and Double Bass show album filler can be just as intriguing. And how does one classify the cinematic Sound Check? Ace, is how!

All said and done Gorillaz has held up incredibly well for a project that likely started as little more than a flight of fancy. Or maybe nostalgic memories of playing this alongside its stylistic-sibling Dreamcast game, Jet Set Radio, are clouding my judgement. Nah.

The Prodigy - The Fat Of The Land

XL Recordings: 1997

Fat Of The Land marks the end of what many fans consider the Holy Trinity of Prodigy albums, including Experience and Music For The Jilted Generation; fans that enjoyed their work in the ‘90s, anyway. I’ve no idea what the new generation thinks of the group that Liam Howlett built, though I can see them unable to handle his style if the remixes that came out with the recent re-release are anything to go by. Holy hell, are those ever fucking pointless and stupid. A lot of Prodigy’s music was already unashamedly ‘dumb’ to begin with, but it’s downright subtle compared to the bro-‘tard nonsense Zeds Dead and Noisia bring to the table.

Forget 'em. All we're concerned with here is the album proper. Fat Of The Land came out at the peak of 'electronica's push, where several UK acts were counted on to break America. Yet The Prodigy stood apart from other Great British Hopes like The Chemical Brothers and Underworld, growing ever brasher as the years wore on, and taking on thrashy punk attitudes as a giant middle finger to the capitalization of the underground scene they'd grown up in. Sure, we'll sign to your major, but you're gonna take us as we are, warts, rivets, and all.

Fat Of The Land had a degree of curious expectation going in. Lead singles Firestarter and Breathe proved they could create anthems on par with their peers, but surely a full album of that would tire quickly, and with no hope of topping those highs.

Then folks threw the album on, Smack My Bitch Up blasting from their speakers, blindsiding just about everyone with how damned good the tune was. Those fierce kicks! That snarling acid! That lush breakdown! Holy shit, they fucking did it! No way they can top- Oh yeah, Breathe! Damn, that's a good track too!

Fat Of The Land pretty much played out like that. Hearing Minefields, Narayan, Funky Shit, and Climbatize for the first time totally convinced you of The Prodigy's ability to adapt and diversify with the times while maintaining their take-no-prisoners, full-on musical attack. Not only were the new tunes fresh, but it helped contextualize the worn-out singles. Trust me when I say not many were looking forward to hearing Firestarter after a year of it. Narayan deserves extra props just for building anticipation for that squalling guitar riff again.

But that was then. Does the album hold up fifteen years on? Sort of. Make no mistake, Fat Of The Land is very much a product of its time: a big beat CD that would become one of the standards to meet in the ensuing years. Much like Experience before, it can’t escape the environment from which it was crafted. Fortunately, Howlett’s production remains as blunt, ferocious and superb as when it first hit the shelves, and I’ve no doubt they’d generate the same level of bedlam played out as they did when they were new. Fuck those current remixes.