Well, it really really really could happen…

Allow me to come to the defense of an album that often gets wrongly accused of “sucking.” An artifact of the bygone days of Brit-pop, this record came on the heels of a much more celebrated release (and rightfully so) and, as a result, the sheer amount of hype that built this record could only damage it, at least in the long run. Perfect and near-perfect reviews in Q and NME, respectively, have been apologized for, as it seems that they, too, got swept up in the hype machine. This would happen for Oasis’ Be Here Now 2 years later, but the album in question that I am choosing to write about is the forgotten relic known only as Blur’s The Great Escape.

And now, a small bit of historical background, but I’ll be brief. After a lackluster, but successful debut LP in 1991, the band coughed and sputtered through 1992 as they attempted to redefine their sound to stand out against the onslaught of American grunge that began to overtake the British music market. Following in the footsteps of other decidedly British acts, such as The Kinks and even mid-80s XTC, Blur refashioned themselves as the Anglo-band to beat. Unfortunately, their first single after this transformation, “Popscene,” choked and left the band in a rather bad situation. Having recorded an album that their label found to be uncommercial, they didn’t resurface until ’93 with the excellent Modern Life Is Rubbish. All 3 singles from the album failed to make the Top 20, but it did set the stage for the pop-explosion of 1994′s Parklife, which had 4 Top 20 hits and eventually went quadruple-platinum in the UK. Even the single “Girls & Boys” managed to make headways into the American market, becoming a hit on the Billboard Modern Rock chart back when that actually meant something. At this point, the UK was firmly rooting for Blur, and they wanted more product. A band by the name of Oasis also happened to strike it big that year with their debut record, Definitely Maybe.

And so, The Great Escape came to be. And, boy, does it exude some lonely vibes. Damon and co. seemed desperate to keep the magic going, and, as a result, it feels oftentimes a lot like a watered-down Parklife, but there’s a certain quality about this album that I absolutely find endearing, although I’m not quite sure what. I’ll see if I can figure out as I write this review.

The album kicks off with the excellent “Stereotypes,” which gets things off to a loud start as Damon sings about a wife who, when left on her own, gets “frisky when her husband said goodbye”. Already, a slight sense of loneliness crops up, but at this point, it’s a playful loneliness that’s easily filled with wife-swapping and role playing. Then, the rollicking smash, “Country House,” shows up to become an instant earworm. The story of a man caught in the rat-race who moves to the country to escape it all, the repeated use of the line, “Blow, blow me out, I am so sad, I don’t know why…” symbolizes his seclusion and despair, and damn if it isn’t catchy as fuck. It was their first no. 1 single, and is famous for beating Oasis’ “Roll With It” that same week. The next track, “Best Days,” slows things down to a crawl as Damon describes the overall boring and desperate lives of a taxi-cab driver and what seems like a businessman. They’ve been told that these are supposed to be the best days of their lives, but they don’t want to hear it. Loneliness prevails again. However, we return to the world of upbeat pop with the single, “Charmless Man,” which is fairly disposable. Of course, the subject of the song is someone who “moves in circles of friends who just pretend that they like him. He does the same to them,” so the happy “la la las” provide a shield for a darker song underneath. After this, the rest of side on kinda sags a little bit, as both “Fade Away” and “Top Man” rank among my least favorite Blur album tracks, but at least “Fade Away” deals with the subject of marrying someone to avoid a lonely life, so the despair continues, and with horns, too! I don’t care about “Top Man”, and I just grit my teeth waiting for the next track whenever I give this album a spin, because “The Universal” is, without a doubt, one of the most gorgeous songs Damon Albarn has ever penned. It tells of a future where a drug named “the Universal” has solved all of the world’s problems, or has it? Damon details what this future looks like through the verses: “No one here is alone, satellites in every home… every paper that you read says tomorrow’s your lucky day, well, here’s your lucky day.” The transition from verse to chorus is one of the most absolutely beautiful things I’ve ever heard in pop music, as this is simply one of the best choruses Damon has ever written. It manages to be simple while conjuring a portrait of a future where a drug will solve our problems, but loneliness still drips from his words, “When the days, they seem to fall from you, well just let them go.” It’s a powerful song, and, yes, I have teared up while listening to it before. Truly wonderful pop music, one of the heights of the form, for sure.

After “The Universal,” it would seem that there’s pretty much no way that side 2 can stack up, but damn if it isn’t more consistent and, uhhh, better. “Mr. Robinson’s Quango” starts off the affair with a punch, as Damon has gone back to biting character study. According to the song, he runs the buses, has a hairpiece and herpes, and is a naughty boy. Even though “his private life is very discreet,” we’re given nearly every detail of it. I was annoyed by this song for a while, but it was a grower for sure, and I quite enjoy it now. Of course, it doesn’t really set you up for the delicious onslaught of sadness that is “He Thought of Cars,” one of my favorites. It paints the picture of a man driving with no real destination, just taking the world in around him as news flashes about Columbia and death emit from his radio. He has no one but his car, and that’s seemingly all he’ll ever have. Straight-faced pop music returns with “It Could Be You,” which is a nice little tune, but one that just feels inconsequential after “Cars.” Apparently, it was the last song recorded during the sessions, but it doesn’t point the way towards their future sonic experimentation. They weren’t quite there yet. After this though, and out of nowhere, comes “Ernold Same,” with spoken lyrics detailing the mundane life of a city dweller who sees every day exactly the same. Musically, it’s reminiscent of “The Debt Collector” from Parklife, but with a more yearning feeling of wanting to break from the monotony. This song, like “Quango,” also took some getting used to, but now I can say that I quite enjoy it. After this wistful tune, we’re brought back to reality fast and hard with “Globe Alone,” which fucking rocks my socks off every time. The story of a grown, but spoiled kid who “if he doesn’t get what he wants, then he’ll get a headache” makes for a good loud blast of rock, and is a nice diversion as we hit the home stretch of the album. Like “Quango,” we’re given a flurry of details as to who this person is, and none of them are all too flattering, leaving a portrait of a man from the go-go 90s who is all out to always have the flashiest clothes and the newest technology, but it’s an empty life replacing actual love with being “very keen on Sharon Stone.” “Dan Abnormal,” likewise, is the story of a man who lacks social skills, but watches TV instead to fill the void. In fact, he watches TV so much, he begins to think that the images are real, and lives a fantasy life based on what he watches, at one point, even holding up a McDonalds because he saw someone do it on TV.  It’s not his fault, though, as the narrator did it to him. Of course, the twist is that the narrator really is Dan himself, which just confuses the matter even more. Still, I like this one a lot. Then “Entertain Me” crops up with an opening synth line that instantly reminds the listener of the different, yet similar line in “Girls & Boys.” Of course, this song is miles away from that alcohol-fueled holiday paradise, as the narrator of “Entertain Me” is bored with everything he sees, and life is nothing more than a hollow “work until you die” type of thing. The weekends are what he lives for, and he demands to be entertained, but nothing’s doing. And, finally, the last track on the record; the magnificent “Yuko and Hiro.” I’m still forming my opinions on what helps to make a song attain classic status, but whatever I settle on, I’m going to have to use this song as a parameter for sheer greatness. If this is not my favorite Blur song, it is definitely in my top 3, and I just know that, right now, I’m not going to be able to describe just what it is about this track I love so damn much. The song begins with an unassuming little piano part, and Damon begins to sing from the perspective of Hiro in a voice that’s not unlike Brian Eno’s. Gradually, we begin to get details of this company, they “look to the future,” and, as long as Yuko and Hiro work hard, “they will protect [them].” Gradually, the real purpose of the song begins to make itself known, especially in the chorus and second verse. In one of Damon’s most heartfelt and touching choruses, his penchant for dwelling on the simple pays off yet again, and the seemingly slight insight, “I never see you, we’re never together, I’ll love you forever,” perfectly encapsulates the beauty and longing presented in this song. Hiro never sees Yuko because he’s busy working. It’s not an uncommon subject for a song, but the second verse is just heartbreaking:

I drink in the evening
It helps with relaxing
I can’t sleep without drinking
We drink together
From Monday to Saturday
I go to my workplace
But on Sunday, we are together
Yuko and Hiro

His desire to be with Yuko has led him to drink, and, though the lyrics imply that they drink together, something much more dark is at play here. Being an illegal Japanese worker, they rely on the company for support and help, as they cannot get it otherwise, but the company is what is keeping Yuko and Hiro from supporting each other, and they are each paying the price for this. The company, depsite its many claims, cannot protect them from depression and alcoholism. Now, these lyrics may not jump off the screen as anything all that special, but, luckily, this song contains one of Damon’s absolute best vocal performances on record. Every ounce of emotion that should go into these words does, and that’s what makes the chorus such a supremely powerful experience. The actual Japanese singers that join in after the second chorus are just the cherry on top. The realism of the sentiment is suddenly made even more real. A lot has been speculated about this song’s connection to the Damon Albarn/Justine Frischmann relationship, and I figure those are probably true, which makes the song a heartbreaker on yet another level, and now, you begin to see why I hold this song in such high regard. While lacking a lot of description, what little we get is more than enough to describe the turmoil that Damon was going through. He never saw his girlfriend because he was working for the company, Food Records, that would protect him, but not before sending him through hell in order to get as much product out of him as possible. It’s no wonder the whole band turned to drinking to help forget that they didn’t like it there in the spotlight. It nearly fucking killed Graham Coxon. It’s a fascinating, if horribly sad, story, and yet it makes for one hell of a song that never fails to at least make me tear up. I try not to listen to it in public.

And so, the record is over, and I guess I have to draw some conclusions now or something. I will go to the grave defending the integrity of this album. It certainly isn’t their best, but it isn’t the cesspool of shit that everyone seems to agree on bashing. It would be the prime Brit-pop punchline if not for “Be Here Now”, and even Damon himself has dismissed it as “messy.” It is messy, of course, but he also said it was one of the two awful albums he’s made, along with “Leisure.” I could never ever compare this album to “Leisure” and I simply won’t hear of anyone saying it’s worse than that trainwreck. I think I must just identify with the loneliness vibes it gives off. I first grew attached to this album last December, which was an absolutely terrible month for me. I felt lower than I ever had before, and this album comforted me in a way. Here was a highly successful group creating beautiful pop tunes that perfectly encapsulated my longing to belong somewhere and to break out of my slide into oblivion. I felt a little like the charmless man, or maybe a bit like Globe Alone, and I, too, thought of cars until I realized that there was no one. No other Blur album, save for perhaps 13, is quite the emotional lonely-coaster that this one is, and perhaps its theme of isolation makes it fitting that it seems to be outcast from the greater group of Blur albums. Its only friend is Leisure, and even The Great Escape knows he’s way too cool to hang out with that loser.

Final score = 91%

B+

-Trevor

When the demos ruled the world

Wikipedia defines the studio album as “an original collection of new tracks by a recording artist.” It goes on to exclaim that “due to their prepared nature, they usually contain a variety of flourishes and production techniques”. There are many variants when it comes to recording an album. Sometimes, albums can be made up of multiple sessions, with different producers and engineers for nearly every track (It worked so well for Raditude, didn’t it?). Oftentimes, though, albums are all recorded in a main session at one studio with one engineer in order to achieve a unified sound, and, therefore, a unified album. Of course, before any of this is possible, bands usually cut demos of the songs they have written for their albums, usually to ease the recording process by having a vague idea of how they want their material to sound once they’re able to give it more studio polish. The thing is… sometimes these demos turn out better than expected, and the bands who record them become so taken with these rough recordings that they sequence them into the album without recording a more clean studio track. This blog salutes the rough and tough demos of the world. Enjoy them!

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Elvis Costello & the Attractions – “New Amsterdam” from Get Happy!!

Ultimately, the band name is a bit misleading for this track, since Elvis recorded all the parts by himself without any Attractions involvement, ya know, being a demo and all. Still, it’s a demo with mighty impressive staying power that has appeared on a whole bunch of compilations, from Elvis greatest hits to those weird CDs they have at Starbucks. I guess he was right not to let the Attractions in on this one.

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R.E.M. – “Pilgrimage” from Murmur

After some disastrous sessions with a bigshot Hollywood music producer, R.E.M. begged their label to let them work with Mitch Easter (producer of all their studio work up until that point) for their debut album. IRS, being the not-really-actually-very-indie label that they were, allowed them to record one test demo to prove that he was capable of the job. They came back with the song “Pilgrimage”, and the label was impressed enough to let him produce the album alongside Don Dixon. The demo made it onto the album at track 2, but you’d be hard-pressed to tell that it was a demo at all. Fits like a glove.

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The Clash – “White Riot” from The Clash

Once again, some misdirection is involved here, as only the UK track listing of this uses the demo recording of “White Riot”. On the flipside, the US track listing uses the single recording of “White Riot”. Come to think of it, does an actual album recording exist of “White Riot”? My sources state that the demo was recorded before the band was signed to CBS. It seems that the single version was probably cut during the album sessions. Well, anyone’s guess is as good as mine.

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Blur – “Chemical World” from Modern Life Is Rubbish

In a way, this is just like the “White Riot” entry, but much more under-the-radar, and flipped. The UK got the original studio version, while the American disc received the demo recording. Why this was done, no one will ever know. It’s even more baffling when one considers that this song in particular was commissioned by SBK (their US label) for the American radio market. This song was written at America’s request, and America didn’t even have the decency to use the final recording. With that said, the demo is pretty good, too.

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Nebraska by Bruce Springsteen

That’s right, this whole album is a set of Tascam 4-track tape demos. However, it is not a demo album. Bruce cut these himself and decided that they were good enough to stand on their own as an official album. If there were ever plans to record these with the E-Street Band, they were scrapped. Of note, one of the demos did not make the record, but would be later re-recorded on Born In the U.S.A. That song was called “Born In the U.S.A.”

-Trevor

They don’t know the tune, and they don’t know the words, but they don’t give a damn

Yes, it’s finally time to write something. It’s been a good many years since my last post, so hopefully this won’t be a totally awkward waste of time. Perhaps it will, only time will really tell. At any rate, today’s post will be about the 1970 album Lola vs. Powerman and the Moneygoround, Pt. 1 by The Kinks. Snappy title, eh? Seriously though, recently, I’ve been fascinated by this album. It always seemed to fly a little lower on my classic Kinks radar than Arthur or Village Green, and on first inspection, seemed a bit lopsided, having about half the songs seemingly telling the story of an up and coming rock ‘n’ roll band finding out the horrors of the industry (“Denmark Street”, “The Moneygoround”). Of course, this band does manage to get their big number one hit, documented in the song “Top of the Pops”, a reference to the late BBC chart show.

Of course, our very own Kinks had themselves a hit single off of this album. “Lola” is a pretty well-documented song at this point. Ray Davies wrote it with the intention of it being a hit single, and he’s stated in interviews that the events in the song are based on two different incidents he’d encountered. Despite the unusual subject matter, it reached the Top 10 in both the US and the UK, where they hadn’t had a Top 10 single since 1965 and 1968, respectively. The next single, “Apeman”, was another Top 10 hit in the UK, although it only hit number 45 in the US.

Despite being in my library, I had never really given this album that much of a chance until about a year ago. I was watching the Wes Anderson film The Darjeeling Limited when I began to recognize some voices in the soundtrack. That film contained the songs “This Time Tomorrow”, “Strangers”, and “Powerman”, but at that point, I had never listened to the album yet. These songs jumped out at me, and I loved them all right away. As soon as the movie was over, I jumped to the nearest computer in an attempt to find out where these songs could be found. I was under the weird impression that they were from their late 70′s period, so I was quite relieved to find that they were from an album with a good critical standing. They were all off of the album with the big single and the wierd songs about the music business. But these weren’t big singles, and they didn’t appear to be about the music industry (although there is a reference to Powerman having the narrator’s “money and [his] publishing rights”). So I gave the whole album a few spins in my car for a week or so. It was good. I enjoyed it. But not as much as the preceding albums. So… end of the story. Right?

Nope. Over the last week or so, it’s been in my head nonstop, and it’s been getting plenty of spins on the iPod. So what was it that brought me back? Well, it’s really catchy. There’s a reason that “Lola” was a big hit. It has a perfect sing-along chorus. So there’s that. Also, plenty of great album cuts. For my money, Dave’s songs were never better than they were on this album. Sure, Something Else had “Death of a Clown”, but his other two songs were sorely lacking. On Lola, Dave gives us “Strangers”, my vote for his best song, and “Rats”, which just plain kicks ass. It’s true, the whole music industry vibe of the record seemed a bit of a turn-off at first, but it has become a part of me now. I cannot deny it. I hate Powerman and the Moneygoround, but I do love Lola vs. Powerman and the Moneygoround, Pt. 1.

-Trevor

But… is it art?

Artwork. Paintings. Drawings. Stuff hung in the Louvre. It’s classic, right? I’d like to think that a great deal of it is. Untouchable? I dunno, I guess so. Not untouchable enough that it doesn’t end up on album covers from time to time. As far as changing the meaning of the original work, I could care less. Yes, it seems I’m reaching for a “don’t care” attitude with this blog. But honestly, I don’t wanna write a classic today. I just wanna bring to attention some famous artwork that also made for some decent album covers. Maybe with a bit of snark thrown in for good measure. I don’t feel like picking an attitude and sticking with it today. So, let us begin.

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Coldplay – Viva la Vida —–> Eugène Delacroix – Liberty Leading the People

Ah yes, what a grand and marvelous piece this was. Until someone let that wacky Chris Martin paint the name of his album on top of it.

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Weezer – Pinkerton —–> Hiroshege – Kambara Yoru no Yuki

We get it Rivers, you love Japan. Well, the top half wasn’t really a part of the original piece, so Goddamn that half-Japanese album cover.

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Sonic Youth – Daydream Nation —–> Gerhard Richter – Kerze

A candle is lit, and a musical revolution begins… or something. Great record, great lighting.

—-

Crash Test Dummies - God Shuffled His Feet —–> Titian – Bacchus and Ariadne

Oh those wacky Canadians! Now they think they’re Greek gods! With a deep baritone voice like that, who can blame them?

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David Bowie – “Heroes”/Iggy Pop – The Idiot —–> Erich Heckel – Roquairol

While not technically the actual artwork, both these two were apparently inspired by this. I see it in Iggy, but Dave’s pretty much doing his own thing as usual.

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Ween – The Pod —–> Leonard Cohen – The Best of

Now, I don’t have too many problems with the other artworks displayed being used, but geez Ween! You should be ashamed of yourself! How could you defile the stone-cold classic The Best of? As far as I’m concerned, Ween can go jump off a cliff and die. You don’t mess with something as precious and life-affirming as Leonard Cohen’s The Best of. An American classic ruined by two Pennsylvania stoners.

-Trevor

I’m Out of Ideas

Well, it’s been a week since this fancy blog of mine got started, and already I really have no idea what to tackle today. I had started writing about the controversy of the song “Science Is Real” off of TMBG’s latest kids album, Here Comes Science, but I just wasn’t feeling it. It probably would’ve turned out downright vile against those I hate, and I’m not feeling that today. So, in its place, I present a few songs about being out of ideas. With any luck, the ideas will start flooding in. On we go…

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They Might Be Giants – Number Three
First of all, I apologize for the video. It was the best I could do on such short notice. Disregarding that, when I think of songs about not being able to write more songs, this one springs to mind instantly. One of ol’ TMBG’s real oldies (it was on their fabled 1985 Demo Tape), it encapsulates their earlier abstract and absurd tendencies, while still managing to not sound forced. It’s fun, and, thankfully, the singer did manage to write more songs afterwards.

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XTC – Train Running Low On Soul Coal
This is really more broad than just simply a lack of ideas. In this song, Andy Partridge is the train, and, well… he’s losing steam. At this point in XTC’s career, they weren’t making money, they weren’t making hit records (although they never did that all that often), and they weren’t touring. They were losing it fast, and Andy just wasn’t up to it anymore. It would take a psychedelic side-project to get the creative juices flowing again, and after that, they were off again.

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The Kinks – Look A Little On The Sunnyside
While not entirely about being out of ideas, there is a sense of ideas being discarded on a whim by the powers-that-be. Ray Davies mocks the commercial music process with such lyrical chestnuts as “You sing ‘em the blues/And then they ask for a happy tune/And when you start to smile, they’ll say gimme that rhythm & blues/And when you give ‘em that rhythm & blues they’ll simply smile and say/We didn’t want to hear you play/We didn’t like you anyway.” So, not so much a lack of ideas, but a lack of interest by those who would allow those ideas to be heard. I suppose that’s similar.

Any others you can think of? I know I’m missing some great examples.

-Trevor

(If You’re Wondering If I Want to Listen to Raditude) Not Really

Right now, right here, I will try something a bit different. Sure, it’s been done before, but now I’m gonna give it a go, and we’ll see how it works. Ladies and gentleman, I will be live-blogging my first listen of the new Weezer disc, Raditude. Before I go further, I will state a few things.

One: My expectations are not strong, but I’m hoping to be surprised.

Two: Dammit Rivers, get your head out of your ass. I wanna love you but you keep making it so hard nowadays.

Three: Will this album be worthy of the name Raditude, or will it be one giant “Wrong-itude”? (Yuck, sorry…) Only one way to find out. HIT IT!

1. (If You’re Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To

Yes, it’s the lead single, but, no, I haven’t actually heard it more than twice. I just don’t have access to a radio anymore, not that I’d want one. I’ll give Cuomo this, it’s one of the most immediately catchy songs he’s penned in a long damn time. And, damn him, I actually like the flow and narrative of the lyrics. Everything may be cliched and seemingly lifted from other songs, but Cuomo seems to have a firm grasp on what he wants in this song, and what he wants is he wants you to.

2. I’m Your Daddy

Hmmm… a weak sorta drum-machine sound starts this off. “You’ve got the brains, the body and the beauty. To top it off, you’re cool” claims Rivers in the first verse, I really can’t make heads or tails of it. But the substandard phrase of “I’m Your Daddy” sorta ruins it, which is a shame since I kinda like the overproduced sound of this song. Never thought I’d say that. I’ll put this one firmly in the nice-enough sounding, but boring and lyrically stupid brand of Weezer song.

3. The Girl Got Hot

Stomping drums and “woah-oh-oh”s remind me instantly of “Keep Fishin’”, but this time, the girl got hot. Good for her, and good for Rivers for noticing. Oh my goodness me. Catchy as fuck, sure, but geez, this one sets another standard in the recent tradition of shit lyrics and pop pandering from a man who once dreamt of something as unfashionable as how a Japanese girl touched herself.

4. Can’t Stop Partying

Ah, the much-maligned Lil Wayne song. Ohh my, synths and dance, and poor Rivers just can’t stop partying. He’s gotta have the cars, the jewels, and if we were him, we would do it to. Or so we’re led to believe. I’ll give him this, these lyrics actually do have a nice bit of heart and, dare I say it, satire? Yes, Cuomo has penned a satire. Ooh, here’s Lil Wayne’s part. Not bad. Actually, I’m kinda liking this, believe it or not. Whether taken at face value or not, damn, I can’t stop the partyin’.

5. Put Me Back Together

Boring. That’s the first word that comes to mind. Perhaps I’ll think of another. “It’s clear that I’m not getting better.” You can say that again, Rivers. Huh, actually, it’s picking up a bit. Oh, it’s become loud. Meh, this still just reminds me of a bunch of other bands. I’m thinking this reminds me of Relient K, for some reason, and take that for what it’s worth.

6. Trippin’ Down the Freeway

Half a minute in, and I can’t think of anything to say about this song. I’ll say it’s not as catchy as some of the other songs, and has some cringe-worthy lyrics about being lame for going to a volleyball game (which is true, so I guess I can’t fault Rivers there). I guess this is supposed to be some musical argument between lovers who can’t decide if they love each other or not. I guess that’s an okay idea, but it seems just kinda tossed-off, and altogether unnecessary. Pleasant, though.

7. Love Is the Answer

Weezer goes all “The Inner Light” on our asses, with some pretty diminishing returns, so far. Apparently “Love” is the answer. Not 42, not Death of a Salesman, but “Love”. Oh, and “There will come a day when we can finally rest/Until that day, take it easy on yourself.” I’ve heard otherwise, but, according to ol’ Rivers, what I’ve heard is simply not true. The most un-Weezer song yet released is also probably their worst song yet, and, at this point, that’s no small feat. Congratulations, Rivers. You’ve written “The Love Guru” set to music.

8. Let It All Hang Out

A searing guitar lick kick-starts this song, perhaps reminding us after that last “Love-fest” Weezer actually is a rock band. Of course, being a rock band doesn’t mean you have to write thoughtful lyrics. “I’m going out with my homies and we’re gonna let it all hang out” proclaims Rivers. Oh, and name-dropping Chiclets and Vitamin Water actually isn’t that cool of an idea, despite how it might sound on paper (not great, actually).

9. In The Mall

Rivers didn’t write this song, but he sure does sing it. Another looping guitar part starts this song out, and the lyrics show off the fact that writer Patrick Wilson understands beyond all shadow of a doubt the objects and places that usually pervade the common American mall. And knowing what’s in the mall is half the battle. Honestly, this may be the most shallow song Weezer has yet recorded. One can hope that the struggling mall industry adopts this as their theme song… and struggles more.

10. I Don’t Want To Let You Go

Ahh, the final-track ballad. Long the staple of the Weezer discography, this one seems to fall in line with some of the previous entries. Rivers’ emotions always tend to shine through more so on the last tracks on each album, and this one seems to be no exception. His emotions are on his sleeve, and “the pain is killing [him]“. I feel like he means it, and I love him for always ending his records with the emotional high points, but even as much as I wanna boldly proclaim that Rivers is back to being personal, I just can’t tell the pop product from the emotion anymore.

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In conclusion, it would appear that Weezer have again made an album that’s catchy as hell but with little else to recommend it. The good tracks are few and far between, and overall, it’s just a mess. At this point, they aren’t even parodying themselves anymore. They’re parodying the parody. Perhaps the never-ending chain of parody will continue onto their next 6 albums, of which, inevitably, 3 will be self-titled and color-coded. Actually, that makes me wonder, if one parodies something enough, does it eventually reach the point where there is absolutely nothing left of the original and the object in question is completely rebuilt? Will Weezer eventually cease to be Weezer and, in fact, become a band that bares no resemblance to any other form of Weezer? They’re well on their way, but only time will tell.

-Trevor

That’s one more than you’d get in Zaire

The late 70s are one of my favorite eras in music. Punk began, and, pretty much soon after, began to stagnate. The “New Wave” also began to take hold around this time, although that genre’s definition has always been a bit confusing to accurately pin down. All in all, however, it was a strange and marvelous time to be a fan of music, when you could trot down to your record store and pick up something unheard of from the CBGBs scene and pick up something rabble-rousing from the London underground. The DIY-indie scene of the 80s was only just around the corner…
But, as of then, the major labels (before they all consolidated) still controlled the music industry, and, as such, many of these fresh new bands still had to bend to the whims of their respective labels, and, as such, product was often rushed out much too fast in order to capitalize on the early success of their first albums. And with that, you have the dreaded “second album syndrome”. It wasn’t new in the 70s (I’m looking at you, Kinda Kinks), and it certainly hasn’t gone away in recent years (take that, Neon Bible!), but, for the sake of this blog entry, I will be looking at a few second albums from the late 70s, one dud, one winner, and one iffy.

When In the City by The Jam came out, it was uniformally praised by the British music press, and for good reason, too. It was definitely a lot more welcoming than other punk records of the time, being more steeped in the mod-revival and having more of a Who/Kinks influence. Guitarist and lead vocalist Paul Weller was identified as a fantastic songwriter and great performer. He’s said to have been inspired by Pete Townshend, which isn’t unusual, but Weller, unlike many of his forgotten contemporaries, was able to channel that inspiration into something great. After the success of In the City, they released the non-album single, “All Around the World”, which made it to #13 on the UK Top 40. After the success of this single, their label, Polydor, demanded an album to capitalize on that success. What we got was This Is the Modern World, a tame, slightly limp album with a few bright spots (the title track, “Standards”, “Life from a Window”), but ultimately too few gems to really be a worthy follow-up. It’s never a good sign for a Jam album when Bruce Foxton writes more than one song, and, in this case, the two he contributes to Modern World make for the two worst on the record. Elsewhere, Weller isn’t always in great form. Particularly, “Here Comes the Weekend” stands out as a generic ode to working for the weekend, with such mind-boggling lyrics as “If we tell you that you’ve got two days to live/They don’t complain, ’cause that’s one more than you’d get in Zaire”. The hesitation in Weller’s voice before he says “Zaire” sure makes it seem that even he is questioning that lyric. In this case, though, there was no time for refinement and skill. As long as it exists, people will buy it, and the label will make money. Phew.

In my opinion, Elvis Costello’s debut album My Aim Is True came fully formed. Released in 1977 in the UK, it became a surprise hit, as Costello’s label, Stiff, had only originally wanted Costello to write songs for another one their artists. After recording some demos with Clover as his band, the recordings were deemed good enough to release as they were, and, as such, My Aim Is True was released to critical fanfare. It even managed some success in America, where it went Gold after a few years and, as of now, is his only Platinum-selling album in the US. After watching his star rise, Costello began assembling a backing band to call his own, as Clover had already left the picture. Thus, The Attractions were born. Recording from late ’77 into early 1978, Elvis emerged, against all odds, with a truly incredible follow-up to a fantastic debut. This Year’s Model proved that Elvis was, indeed, here to stay. Hell, he’s still around now, ain’t he? So, how did Elvis manage to miss the sophomore slump? For one, he had been writing for years before My Aim Is True came out. He joked that he was “an overnight success after seven years.” A look at his setlists from ’77 also seem to indicate that he had already managed to write a good few tracks that would end up on This Year’s Model. It doesn’t hurt that he was able to take his songwriting in different directions with his new band, too. Steve Nieve’s keyboard antics would have been pretty much unheard-of on Elvis’ first LP. Perhaps the real sophomore slump in this case is Armed Forces, but I won’t bother getting into that.

Well, what hasn’t been said about the Clash’s first album at this point? It remains a perfect snapshot of the time it came out. Punk music was so new and fresh, and this fiery album was the first major-label punk record released (buncha sell-outs!). It seemed the UK had total Clash-mania throughout 1977, due in no small part to their fantastic debut and a wonderful string of singles throughout the year. Of course, the people quicky grew restless, and, boy did they ever want a second album. The Clash, however, took their sweet time, knowing that rushing into the scary sophomore album would be disastrous, as they didn’t want what happened to the Jam to happen to them. So while The Clash came out in April 1977, Give ‘Em Enough Rope didn’t come out until November 1978, by far the longest wait-time of all the examples given in this entry. But here’s the question… was the wait worth it? The answer… yes and no. Give ‘Em Enough Rope proves to be the second album that improves on nearly everything offered by the first, and yet seems strangely less vital than it’s predecessor. Give ‘Em Enough Rope offers tight performances, great musicianship, and maturing lyrics from both Joe Strummer and Mick Jones, and yet, it all feels more labored and dull. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great record, and I like it just fine, but the fury and roughness of the debut is traded in for a somewhat shallow hugeness, no doubt caused by producer Sandy Pearlman. Reverb is great in moderation, but it’s been thrown over the entire album, causing a bit of a muddled sound that, as many other reviewers have pointed out over the years, just doesn’t suit the Clash. The songwriting isn’t as great either, as they still seem to be finding their footing as they begin to look outside the straight “punk” of their debut. All and all, I’d say it manages to miss the sophomore slump, but only just barely.

Time to wind this all up in a neat package, although I honestly don’t think I can. Some bands are more prepared to release more music than others. But it’s always the second album that’s focused on the most intensely, it seems. When an artist manages something great the first time around, it’s always cliche to say that it’s “lightning in a bottle” and a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Often it’ll be make-or-break for the bands, but sometimes they can overcome it. Why, just look at the Jam! After This Is the Modern World, they actually did manage to pull themselves up from the depths of obscurity with a string of three straight classic albums in the form of All Mod Cons, Setting Sons, and Sound Affects. And, hell, if you consider Give ‘Em Enough Rope a dud, then I’m sure you’d agree that, with their next release, they weren’t so washed-up after all. It turns out that Elvis Costello is the one ultimately up for debate, because it was not long after his early fame that his popularity began to wane, and his records didn’t sell as much. Perhaps the public at large didn’t want an R&B/soul-based album, and I sure as hell know they didn’t want an album of country covers, but, with Elvis, you never know what you’re going to get. That may have been his downfall sales-wise, but I’d argue that he mostly kept his ground artistically throughout the 80′s (‘cept for maybe Goodbye Cruel World, but for every bad album, there was a classic album to pick up the pace). As previously stated, there really is no way to conclude this post other than to say that some albums aren’t as good as others. Yeah.

-Trevor

I stay away from the bugs

Ahhh, 13; the Blur album that everyone loves to love to hate. It’s my personal favorite from their fantastic discography. The searing, abrasive Graham Coxon guitar; the melancholy, retrospective Damon Albarn lyrics; oh, and Alex James and Dave Rowntree are there, too. On no other album do Coxon and Albarn aurally battle like they do on this LP. After 1995′s underrated The Great Escape, Blur rose from the ashes of Brit-pop to turn their guitars up, and crank it. The melody was still there, but now, things were huge, fuzzy, and altogether more steeped in that “American Indie sound,” whatever that really means. Graham Coxon seems to be held responsible for the shift in sound, but I’m willing to wager that ol’ Dan Abnormal was into it as well. Whatever the cause, 1997′s self-titled LP broke Blur in America with the song that ere’body knows, and that, of course, is “Song 2″.

However, I would more like to focus on the follow-up to that record, 1999′s 13. Contemporary critical response was positive, but not staggeringly so, achieving a 79 on metacritic.com. Apparently, the hold-up was the “dense, murky” sound of the record. I’ll admit, it’s a toughie to get into. Once the tunes start to sink in, and the lyrics and melodies become clearer, 13 becomes that much more of a classic. While managing a small cult presence in the US, it was a hit record with hit singles in the UK, including “Tender”, which made it to number 2 on the UK Top 40, only beaten by Britney Spears’ “Baby One More Time”. Yeesh.

While it would be a cop-out to say that every track’s recommended, I would say that this is an album experience for sure. However, I will list my favorites. If you must pick 5 songs, I would recommend “Tender”, “Bugman”, “Coffee & TV”, “Battle”, and “Trailerpark”. As a free bonus, get “B.L.U.R.E.M.I.” while you’re at it. Now whatever you do, make sure you get this album!

-Trevor

And the boys still got shit for a brain

This won’t be long, since it is a “holiday” and all. Here’s a song that’s all about that candy-eating, costume-dressing holiday known as Halloween. Well, I think so anyway… this can get pretty ambiguous. At any rate, here’s “Halloween on the Barbary Coast” by the Flaming Lips.

Happy Halloween!

-Trevor

I heard a funny thing, somebody said to me…

Recently, I’ve been quite taken with the landmark 1967 album Forever Changes by Love. Initially forgotten amongst other great albums of the day, it’s grown in stature over the years and is now required listening from the psychedelic era. One song in particular has been on my mind, and that’s the album-opener “Alone Again Or”. Despite being released during the so-called “Summer of Love”, this song brings to mind the feeling of loves lost, and surely opens the album on a strangely sad yet anthemic note. Each verse ends with a triumphant, huge declaration of “I will be alone again tonight, my dear.” Only it’s triumph is nonexistent. As much as he’d love to forget his past love, he won’t forget all the times he’s waited patiently for her. Even though he could “be in love with almost everyone”, he’ll be alone again.

While most of Forever Changes was written by Arthur Lee, this was one of three tracks written by Bryan MacLean. It’s been said that Lee assumed much more control over the album, and, as such, he turned up his high harmony vocal to be higher than MacLean’s main vocal line, which has ended up pushed into the background.

Enjoy!

Alone Again Or – Love

-Trevor