Claude Young - Celestial Bodies

Fountain Music: 2013

Most times when dealing with a DJ or producer for the first time, the additional information Lord Discogs provides doesn’t tempt me into much further digging. So I was figuring the case for Claude Young when initially tackling his DJ-Kicks CD. T’was cool and all learning about his history, his legacy, and who he’s worked with in the past, but he’s been all over the map with his releases too. And I mean that literally, his records scattered on labels from across the globe, and undoubtedly super obscure or wallet-scorching expensive to procure. Fair enough, thought I, figuring Mr. Young would be yet another class Detroit techno guy that I’d have to sacrifice my attention in favor of several other worthy acts. It’s just the nature of Detroit techno consumption, tons of mint material only cultivated and heralded by the truly hardcore connoisseur of the genre. They wouldn’t have it any other way.

And yet, what’s this in Claude’s albums cache? A recent album released on Fountain Music in Japan called Celestial Bodies. Ooh, pretty blue nebula on the cover. Kinda’ reminds me of Model 500’s Deep Space. Quite a few astronomical titles in the track list too. The sample track, Hawking Radiation has a bumpin’ groove going for it. Is this a ‘Detroit techno guy making funky space music’ then? Mang, this just might be the Model 500 album we were all hoping for last year, but didn’t get in lieu of the retro-leaning Digital Solutions instead. Oh man, screw the Pacific import fees, time to get on this one before all the CD copies are snatched up!

That Celestial Bodies is not, in fact, a ‘Detroit techno guy making funky space music’ may come as a shock then. Mr. Young doesn’t produce much at all anymore, and when he does, his muse seems more drawn to ambient techno’s more experimental pastures. Not such a bad thing either, but man, was I not counting on a nearly full-on space ambient excursion with Celestial Bodies. Has Claude been hanging around planetariums?

There isn’t a whiff of a techno beat until the sixth track, and Domain Wall doesn’t even hit the two-minute mark. Prior to that there’s soft, harmonic tones of Exodus Earth, space drone of Observing The Kuiper Belt (Namlook legacy in the house, yo’), looping sonic doodle of Delta Cephei, spritely melodic pulses of Signals From Amor, and string pads accompanying punches of dub in Nysa. Only Observing and Signals reach any significant length, though even when the tracks get extra meat on their bones in the second half, we’re still mostly dealing with excursions into ambient. Sedna 90377 has some Detroit shuffle going for it, but is more about Claude’s old-school synth jams. Meanwhile, Cyrosleep Dreams is a lovely lullaby for our ventures to the cosmos, while Messier 86 (NGC 4406) is all ominous and creepy. Damn right it should be, the blue-shifted Virgo Cluster resident heading right for us! Projections for collision in a quadrillion years.

Bob Dylan - Bringing It All Back Home

Columbia: 1965/2003

A much better introduction to Bob Dylan long-players. Hell, it just might be among his most iconic albums for a number of reasons. For one, there’s the big hullabaloo over his ventures into the realms of electric music. Hey, that means Bringing It All Back Home is actually relevant to this blog! Nah, not really, the ‘going electric’ part merely his embrace of rock music after an early career as a traditional acoustic folkie. This was seen as a Very Big Deal though, like a betrayal of sorts; musicians just didn’t cross genre and scene boundaries, yo’. You started as an acoustic folk singer, you stayed in your lane. You started as a country crooner, damn straight you weren’t offering those pipes to Motown soul. A rock band was a rock band, though maybe you might get in on that blues action too.

Point being Bobby Dylian proved one wasn’t so chained to their genre as record labels so often claimed. The Beatles could make more than simple ‘love me do’ jangles. Brian Wilson could pen tunes about things other than surfing. And most importantly, you could even meld genres together! Rock music was traditionally lyrically simple stuff, catchy little numbers intended for dancefloors and malt shops, with no time for anecdotes and storytelling. Dylan said nuts to that, retaining his wordsmith abilities without sacrificing the energetic rockabilly jaunts.

And while Subterranean Homesick Blues, Maggie’s Farm, Outlaw Blues, On The Road Again, and Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream enthusiastically rock with the best of that era’s tunes, Mr. Zimmerman doesn’t just dwell on a single genre either. There’s a touch of the country in She Belongs To Me and Love Minus Zero, plus a flurry of folk songs to finish the album out. These include some of his most endearing pieces like Mr. Tambourine Man, famously covered by The Byrds that same year, and maybe-sorta’ about LSD (and if so, a much better allegory than the ham-fisted weed puns of Rainy Day Women #12 & 35). Somber Gates Of Eden is also here, foretelling the inevitable hippie burnout of the ‘70s before there was even much of a hippie movement to begin with. And if you ever need a more perfect example of Dylan’s seemingly stream-of-conscious lyricism, have a gander at It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding).

I bitched some about Dylan’s singing on Blonde On Blonde, but he sounds perfectly fine here. It’s like the brisk rock tempos prevent him from oohver enuunsiating. 115th Dream hilariously starts with an aborted recording session, lending the whole album a playful vibe, and that ol’ Bob isn't always so serious about himself. Finally, Subterranean Homesick Blues is probably most famous for offering the closest thing to the first music video. True, the scene of Dylan holding up cue cards in an alleyway as the song plays was taken from a tour documentary, but it’s been so smoothly extracted from the film, it may as well be a music video made for MTV. Dudes!

Bob Dylan - Blonde On Blonde

Columbia: 1966/2004

The only Bob Dylan album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a Bob Dylan fan. That said, do not let this be your introduction to the guy’s work. Mind, I honestly don’t know how one’s supposed to properly take in Mr. Zimmerman’s work. Every Dylan disciple will claim all his ‘60s material is essential, while the ‘70s is good, except when it’s actually very bad, but he was being intentionally bad so it’s actually good. Not that ‘80s stuff though, that was just bad-bad. Dammit though, we only have time to listen to a couple albums in our super busy lives. What’s the absolute best-best album we’re supposed to have? Blonde On Blonde apparently, but that comes with a huge caveat as far as I’m concerned.

I’m by no means a Dylan expert – the fact I’m reviewing this album is by happenstance of a former owner’s contribution to my CD hoarding. I know the history though, the legacy, the influence he’s had on some of my favorite artists. I’ve heard the iconic songs and the loving tributes. But diving into all his music? Sorry, Neil Young’s filled my need for folkie-rocker protester musician. So take these thoughts with grainy sodium, because Blonde On Blonde strikes me as the sort of album one can only fully appreciate as someone thoroughly versed in Dylan’s discography, idiosyncrasies and all.

Many call this his opus, but I’m not hearing much more here that can’t be found on his other ‘electric’ records of the era. There’s definitely a lot more of it though, which is great if you can’t get enough of that clever lyricism and metaphorical storytelling his reputation’s made on. And boy, choosing those famous, unheralded Nashville session musicians when his New York recordings weren’t up to snuff was a brilliant move, the backing tracks fun and exuberant throughout. I just wish I could hear them better in the final mix.

Right, folks come to a Bob Dylan album to hear Bob Dylan doing Bob Dylan th’angs, but damn if his cadence doesn’t grate after a while. Yes, I know this iis just the waaay he sings some-times, which is fine in small doses. For the double-LP length of Blonde On Blonde though, I completely tune out in the back half, especially so for the eleven-minute closer Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands. There are some lovely words being sung, just not in the way they’re being sung, plus he recycles so many melodies from the first half, it’s like the album’s spinning wheels. And why on Earth is that harmonica so damn high and shrill, drowning out the awesome session musicians? It isn’t even all that good a’ blowin’.

By the end of it, Blonde On Blonde comes off like an endurance test for what you can get out of Dylan. If you’re totally down with ol’ Bob, every moment is mana. Methinks one need a little bracer of his other material before coming into this one though.

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?

Alphaxone - Altered Dimensions

Cryo Chamber: 2015

Cryo Chamber was initially just an outlet for Simon Heath’s own material, mostly re-issuing his Atrium Carceri back-catalog alongside his newer project Sabled Sun. Not sure whether he had intention of expanding it beyond that, but surely he knew a few like-minded brooding souls in the dark ambient scene that would fit his idea of ‘cinematic drone’. He was smart about it though, resisting releasing a glut of digital material in hopes of a few stickers. As Cryo Chamber offered CD options as well, the label would have to be a bit pickier in whom they dealt with. This has led to a comparatively smaller roster of producers on the print, but one where each is distinct from the other, where they can build a unique discography under the Cyro Chamber banner. Considering the label’s catalog has quadrupled in the past two years, I’d say they’re onto something good here.

Of course I would be saying that considering I splurged on them when they had a CD blowout over the winter months. Also consider: I knew squat about anyone else on the roster, leaping into all these dark ambient producers completely cold. Hell, I had yet to even sample Mr. Heath’s Atrium Carceri material. To so thoroughly dive into a label promoting music I’ve seldom crossed paths with in the past is one heck of a faithful leap, but one that’s paid off, nothing on Cryo Chamber disappointing yet.

Okay, I’ve spent half this review explaining why y’all be seeing a lot of this label’s material in the coming months. I already went through Alphaxone’s history in the Absence Of Motion review, and there sure isn’t much else I can add to that here. Altered Dimensions, meanwhile, is the second album the Iranian producer released on this print. That’s right, folks, it’s a reverse chronicling of Alphaxone’s output! We’re, like, time-travelers, yo’, inching ever so slowly towards Prime Alphaxone, in the long ago of 2012-ish.

As such, Altered Dimensions takes us to the more abstract explorations of Mr. Saleh’s muse, this one coming off like a journey into the geometric labyrinth-scape at the end of Hellraiser 2. None of that body-horror stuff with grotesque Cenobites lurking about, oh no. We’re in a realm where things are askew from our normal reality, familiar in construct but alien in design. There’s even something of a grounding starting point, opener Distances offering a minimalist rhythm complementing the waves of dark synth pads washing over you - reminds me of something off of a recent Ultimae Records collection.

This is definitely a ‘journey’ sort of album, letting you take in the scenery as you envision with Alphaxone’s atmospherics guiding you along. It’s never so creepy you wish to flee, abstract sounds tugging at your sense of curiosity as you exploring the unknown. It can leave you feeling isolated and vulnerable (holy cow, does Aftermath ever so), yet stronger of spirit for the journey taken. Just don’t leave the puzzle box lying about after.

Various - Almost Famous

DreamWorks Records: 2000

I didn’t care much for the movie Almost Famous. Shock, I know. How could a supposed amateur music critic like I not admire, adore, and even empathize with the story of a young rock journalist’s journey of self-discovery while on a road-trip assignment? Eh, I just don’t, not in the slightest. Though I cannot deny some allure in getting all those sweet backstage passes and being paid to hear live music, I’ve never had any aspirations for music journalism as a career. The whole profession reeks of brown-nosing hustle just to get by, to say nothing of how internet reporting has all but diminished any potential scribe’s worth to publishers. I write these little blurbs about CDs I own not for fame or fortune, but for… hmm, come to think of it, why am I even doing this? Isn’t insanity defined by doing repetitive things for no discernable benefit? Perhaps so, but this niggling OCD’s gotta’ sort itself somehow.

Anyhow, it doesn’t matter what my music blogging aspirations are, for it’s not like Almost Famous has anything to do with that. It’s an inciting incident to get director Cameron Crowe’s autobiographical stand-in, fifteen year old William Miller, on the road with Allman Brothers Band stand-in, Stillwater. The teenager bears witness to things happening during the early ‘70s rock star livin’, like singing, partying, bickering, sexing groupies in denial, and maybe a little clairvoyance along the way. Right, an impending plane crash does help to clear the air with everyone involved, but by the end of the movie, it seems no one’s really learned much from this whole tour. The band, on the verge of stardom, don’t seem destined for much beyond their ‘almost famous’ status regardless. Aside from Kate Hudson (because Character Arc), the groupies still cling to the band with the blinkered optimism being around potentially famous rock stars affords them. And lil’ William learns that, though the rock star lifestyle ain’t all what it’s cracked up to be, it’s still a vital, healing part of so many folks’ souls to outright dismiss it as horrible ‘Satan music’. Wait, maybe I’m thinking the movie Groove here.

Almost Famous is ultimately a movie with super-thick nostalgia shades for a specific era of rock music. It touches on a few of the less-favorable aspects, but not to such a degree that it’ll have Boomers questioning their love for that time. Appropriately, the music on the soundtrack features all the folky and rocker sorts that defined the ‘70s college radio waves. The Who, Simon & Garfunkel, Rod Stewart, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Led Zep’, Cat Stevens all make appearances, with surprising turns from Yes, Beach Boys, Elton John, and David Bowie. It’s a good collection of songs, mostly eschewing obvious hits for tunes that fit the sort of tone Crowe was filming: laidback and carefree as the wind blows, trying to ignore that nagging uncertainty of what all this means in the end, of what the future holds. Punk, mang, the answer is punk.

Sarah McLachlan - Afterglow

Nettwerk: 2003

Sarah McLachlan first came within range of my earholes way back, her oldie single Into The Fire on constant rotation over Vancouver’s radio waves. And why not, an undeniably catchy song that fed off the success of similar lady singer-songwriters of the era (Tori Amos, Sinéad O'Connor). Plus, what youthful teenage boy couldn’t help but be, erm, ‘intrigued’ by that video of Ms. McLachlan lounging about naked, covered in mud? And while I’m almost certain I heard Possession at some point too (aka: that “I’ll take your breath away” song), I didn’t give her much thought after Into The Fire, music bias against anything un-electronic dictating such youthful folly. Thus I must admit to embarrassing shock at not only learning she was still around when her ultra-mega successful Surfacing dropped, but was on the verge of becoming an industry juggernaut for female musicians. Grammys! Lilith Fair! Trance remixes! Well I’ll be darned.

After such unprecedented career fortune, Ms. McLachlan did what any humble gal from Nova Scotia would do: retreat from the spotlight for a while for some quality me-time. This wasn’t her first time doing so, ol’ Sarah taking a six-month sabbatical prior to working on Surfacing. After all the touring and fame that album wrought, damn straight she’d need another bought of recharging. This one lasted much longer though, in part due to a period of mourning after the loss of her mother, but also prepping for motherhood of her own. With all these factors in play, anticipation was high for this album. Could she meet and even surpass her song writing abilities so often exceeded throughout the ‘90s? Would she have new topics to write about, new perspectives on the way life had gone for her in the half-decade since international stardom? Might she incorporate any new production tricks, perhaps go more electronic in lieu of the popularity of all those remixes? The answer to all this is an irresistible “nah, guy.”

Afterglow is quite the apt title, the music here mostly calm and light. It all goes down easy, the sort of songs you’d hear on your adult contemporary station during the grind of work. Sarah doesn’t offer much in the way of fresh insights or innovative song craft, mostly relaying the sort of platitudes you’d expect of someone mostly content in their life. Tracks like Fallen, Stupid, and Train Wreck touch on feelings of loss, whereas Perfect Girl and Push offer messages with some hopeful outlooks. World On Fire hints at the troubles ailing a post-9/11 world, but that’s about as far outside Sarah’s comfort zone of relationship reflections we venture. Lyrically, all the songs on Afterglow are well-written and Sarah’s voice sounds as haunting as ever, but after such a long gap between albums, it’s no surprise folks came away from this tidy ten-tracker underwhelmed. Could it be Ms. McLachlan’s time in the sun had finally set?

I must “nah, guy” again, a surprising new career as an impossibly sad ASPCA spokeswoman beckoning.

Alphaxone - Absence Of Motion

Cryo Chamber: 2015

Alphaxone is one of a few aliases adorned by Mehdi Saleh, an Iranian making a tidy sum of his days releasing ambient music of various sorts. Initially it was as Spuntic, mostly releasing on long-running netlabel Enough Records. More recently he’s added Monolithic Cycle on Silent Flow and Inner Place on SUBWISE, but through it all is Alphaxone, essentially the dark ambient yang to the other projects’ more soothing yin. This alias bounced around a few digital prints, and looked set to find a permanent home with fast-growing Kalpamantra. Maybe Mr. Saleh felt his material was getting lost among the many, many releases on that label though, and thus found a new home with Cryo Chamber as they started their expansion. Makes sense, what with Simon Heath looking to nurture a cultivated roster rather than toss any and all submissions out and see what sticks. Plus, y’know, having your material on an actual physical medium couldn’t have been too shabby a deal maker either.

Absence Of Motion is the third Alphaxone album on Cryo Chamber, and seventh released in the past half-decade. If I can glean any sort of progress with Mr. Saleh’s project in this time, it’s been a gradual shift from dark, droning abstraction and bleak atmospherics of his earlier efforts, to looking outward and upward into spa-a-a-ace. Or, wait, his first album, Nucleus MS-106, has a close-up photo of the Moon, so is he making his way back to the cosmic source? Can’t say I’m that curious to find out, so let’s go with the Cryo Chamber narrative instead. Alphaxone came in with the dark and abstract, and is gradually expanding to the unending above and beyond. Something like that.

Mind, we’re not quite in the deep realms of the outer reaches. Even with track titles like Long Eternity, Space Continuum, and Celestial, there’s a sense we’re simply hovering in our planetary atmosphere, the wonders above forever out of reach despite our longing to explore. But remain stuck we are within our Inner Horizon, physically bound by the gravity of our X-Land, stranded, um, Close to home?

Okay, I’m extrapolating meaning out of this album based mostly on track titles and cover art, as the music within is mostly of the dark, droning sort with melancholic pads permeating the sparse tone throughout. And honestly, there isn’t that much difference between the nine tracks offered, Alphaxone not one to provide the sort of distinct narrative as Sabled Sun or other dark ambient sorts do. At most Absence Of Motion provides a suggestive hand for one reading, but this sort of ambience is quite open for interpretation. Or perhaps none at all, simply existing as mood music for its own sake without any specific need or wont for in-depth analysis. Can I help it if I’m getting into this stuff because of my brain’s unyielding need for canvas painting via sounds, harmonies, and timbre? No, I cannot, which is why I splurged on Cryo Chamber’s back catalog, y’dig?

System 7 - 777

Big Life: 1993

The briefly-lost System 7 album, if you were an American fan of the duo. Having named it 777, when they had already utilized the three-digits as their alias and self-titled debut within the U.S. (legal issues), poor Caroline Records couldn’t have been happy. What, name it 777²? Maybe so, but it probably wasn’t worth it to Caroline.

First they’d have to renegotiate distribution with another label, System 7 having left 10 Records and all. 777 was essentially self-released by System 7 by way of their own Weird And Unconventional Records, a brief offshoot of Big Life who’d served as an outlet for the likes of Yazz, Coldcut, and Drum Club. If Caroline eventually settled on a new deal with Weird And Unconventional, System 7 had already settled in with another Big Life sub-label, Butterfly Records, by which point the Point 3 series had hit shelves. So Caroline gave up on System 7 (re: 777), but that didn’t stop another label from grabbing the rights to 777 (re: System 7) distribution, Astralwerks! Only they didn’t care about 777 either (re: the Big Life record), as the Point 3 series was getting most of the critical kudos at the time. They released that as the double-CD System 7.3, leaving 777 an import curiosity for System 7 fans. That is, until good ol’ Hypnotic, seeing a popular European act’s LP with no American distribution to its name, snagged up the album for a 1998 release. But hey, at least by that point they could use the System 7 band name again!

My GOD, does Steve Hillage and Miquette Giraudy ever have a convoluted history with distribution. No wonder they went proper independent with A-Wave after the turn of the century. As for why they left 10 Records in the first place, I haven’t a clue, but considering how their debut had a rather radio-friendly slant running throughout, and this one most definitely does not, I can only speculate. And I shall! See, 10 Records was a sub-label of Virgin, and though the print nurtured a few leftfield acts, System 7 strikes me as the sort of album aimed for a little UK dance chart action. In that regard, it utterly failed, earning none of the sales The Orb garnered, even with Mr. Doctor Alex Paterson on hand. But some good came of it too, getting chummy with techno legend Derrick May for the lasting standout tracks from that album.

Hillage and Giraudy must have felt something good from that too, because 777 is quite techno throughout. Hell, A Cool Dry Place with The Orb is practically Hawtin-level minimal, though with plenty o’ spacey guitar wails giving it a distinct tranced-out vibe. Meanwhile, 7:7 Expansion’s a fun proto-goa tune with Tony Thorpe and Youth, and the back-end goes deep in the floating ambient dub. There’s still a sense of System 7 figuring things out with their sound, but as a collection of hippie techno-trance, 777’s pretty good for the year from whence it came.

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.