SOS

60-51

Wed, 21 Jan 2009 22:32:00 -0500

60. Some Velvet Morning - Nancy Sinatra & Lee Hazlewood

Movin’ With Nancy (Reprise / 1967)

This one shouldn’t be unfamiliar: Slowdive has covered it, Lydia Lunch has covered it, Primal Scream has covered it. All are great and worth obtaining, but Nancy Sinatra and Lee “The Moustache” Hazlewood’s original reigns supreme. We know that Nancy had a string of (mostly) really great singles in the 60s, but the real key to this one in particular is the presence of Hazlewood’s charming-yet-creepy baritone vocals: equal parts playful and toxic. Sans Lee, or dueted with anyone but Lee, my guess is that I’d likely not give nearly as much a shit about the song, as Sinatra’s borderline hippie dippie lyrics playing sole-centerpiece would’ve been much less forgiving. Like many of the great psychedelic pop songs of the 1960s, the meaning of “Some Velvet Morning” is somewhat obtuse. Your guess is as good as mine, but I can’t help but imagine a strung-out and ditchin’-rehab Lee Hazelwood trying (albeit unsuccessfully) to climb through his ex-lover’s doggie door. I could be wrong.

59. Quo Estai Amore - Boys

In Loch Ness (Smashing Time / 2005)

Don’t ask me exactly how I got my hands on this song, I honestly couldn’t tell you. What I am certain of, though, is that of all the songs thus far in the countdown, “Quo Estai Amore” has given me the most trouble in tracking down any information about it whatsoever. That being said, ironically the song itself has always seemed eerily familiar (and I’m not talking about the fact that it’s a note-for-note doo-wop rip-off). Maybe I’d heard it in a movie? Maybe it was once the national anthem of a foreign country? Maybe. I mean, the lyrics are in Spanish. But according to the internet, Spain’s national anthem is called “La Marcha Real” and unfortunately, the lyrics are not about wanting to die. So close! Furthermore, the album imagery seemed oddly familiar as well. Was this the poignant photo work of get-that-band-in-a-lake renaissance man Will Oldham? Or perhaps just the Hispanic answer to Slint? Possible, I guess.

58. Unite - Burial

Box Of Dub (Soul Jazz / 2007)

Burial is the alias of producer William Bevan, though you’re likely to not know that. Fact: after releasing two extremely good dubstep records in the span of the last three years, no one was quite sure who this Burial-entity was. It wasn’t until this past August that his cover was officially blown (on Myspace, no less), in which Bevan stated that no, he wasnt some sort of gimmick or elaborate practical joke orchestrated by Moby, but in fact, well, just some dude. As me for, I was left now with even more questions than answers! Why Myspace?! Was this a part of the prank too?? An image of a ski-mask wearing Banksy dragging burlap sacks donning crudely stenciled dollar signs into his Honda Element flashed through my brain. Could it be true?? Who is this mystery man who possesses the ability to move so many bodies? I bet it’s Moby. But it wasn’t. Shortly thereafter, Bevan himself left us a second all-too-sweet message on his blog stating: “I’m a low-key person and I just want to make some tunes, nothing else”. So it was true afterall. And I felt good. In an age in which electronic-based music (in the most general sense) has become so inextricably bound with dumb gimmicks and even dumber sunglasses, Burial’s much-needed presence only compliments his equally beautiful and unpretentious records.

57. Baby, Baby - The Vibrators

Baby, Baby 7” (Epic / 1977)

“Female hysteria” was a once-common medical diagnosis, made exclusively in women, which is today no longer recognized by modern medical authorities as a medical disorder. Its diagnosis and treatment was routine for many hundreds of years in Western Europe. Hysteria was widely discussed in the medical literature of the Victorian Era. Women considered to be suffering from it exhibited a wide array of symptoms including faintness, nervousness, insomnia, fluid retention, heaviness in abdomen, muscle spasm, shortness of breath, irritability, loss of appetite for food or sex, and “a tendency to cause trouble”. Since ancient times women considered to be suffering from hysteria would sometimes undergo “pelvic massage” — manual stimulation of the anterior wall of the vagina by the doctor until the patient experienced “hysterical paroxysm”. Won’tcha be my girl?

56. The Superimposed Man - Yeah Yeah Noh

Fun On The Lawn Lawn Lawn (Vuggum / 1986)

Much of my love for Yeah Yeah Noh comes from the fact that they sound so much like the Vaselines: telecasters janglin’ in the sun, two-note guitar solos, 4-chord progressions, and endearingly pathetic vocals. Also like the Vaselines, the highlights always seemed to be hidden in the tiny corners of their deceptively simple vocal harmonies. “I love to superimpose myself on you” admits forlorn front-boy Derek Hammond. Mopey-female counterpart Sue Dorey responds with “I’m watching everything you do from my fortress of solitude”. Yup, fortress of solitude. And you get the feeling even if Sue were to “escape” from that very fortress, the two lovebirds would just have some sort of sputtery exchange of sentence fragments and then each retire back to their respective dwellings for a long night of pillow-crying. You really can’t beat that.

55. Alone Again Or - Love

Forever Changes (Elektra / 1967)

There was a period of time in summer ‘08 in which I was really into those Bolthouse Farms smoothies. The problem was that the crumby supermarket near my house, unlike nearly every other supermarket on the planet, did not carry this product. I should have known better: hand to god, one time I went in there looking for hummus, so I asked the guy and he literally pointed to the ShopRite up the road. Basically, every time I’ve ever wanted one of those delicious smoothies (Amazing Mango, please), I had to drive a good 20 minutes up to one of the more “affluent” supermarkets in the area. A lot of these times, I happened to have Love’s Forever Changes in the car stereo and most of the time, depending on my current mango situation, would listen to “Alone Again Or” over and over again. That mariachi band horn part, oh how it aptly complimented my delicious mango smoothie! (now filling up with the tears of tropical heartbreak)

54. Streets Of Iron - Bad Times

Bad Times (Sympathy For The Record Industry / 2002)

I can’t say that I completely dislike Jay Reatard’s solo output; conversely, I can say that his one-off supergroup Bad Times is fucking great. Go grab your duffle bag full of Reatards 7″’s and trade ‘em in for the Bad Times LP. And do it now. Don’t believe me? Ok, I’ll sweeten the deal. In addition to king Reatard himself, Bad Times consists of fellow-Memphis native Eric Friedl, who founded the almighty Oblivians, as well as Louie Bankston who, among other things, joined the fucking Exploding Hearts and co-wrote their one and only LP (which, in my opinion, is the best true-to-Buzzcocks-form pop punk record ever; yeah, hold me to that). Rumor has it, this record was written and recorded in something like three days, and as far as I know they’ve never toured or played any shows. Shame, nice riffs.

53. She’s The One - James Brown

She’s The One 12” (Urban / 1974)

On the 12″ of the same name, James Brown’s “She’s The One” is a willingly blissful piece of funk. Originally recorded in the early ’70s yet not formally released until 1988, “She’s The One” shows a cohesiveness and clarity that cannot be as readily found in his earlier work. It isn’t any one single component which makes the track so damn addicting; rather it’s the sum of these things operating on all cylinders individually: you’ve got an itchy guitar lead, horns that explode when they come within 5 feet of a chorus, drums to push you around in your dinner chair, and of course, the Godfather himself to half-lose his cool and half-reverberate with joy while doing so.

52. African Rhythms - Mi Ami

African Rhythms 12” (White Denim / 2008)

I’m not one to bet, but if I’d put money on No Age age blowing the fuck up in 2008, I’d be a rich man (I’m looking at you, Poneman). The stars were aligned, and damnit, I swear I’d seen it coming. Or maybe it was a happy accident: I’d first checked No Age out at the Black Cat in London nearly two years ago, and while all the kids there didn’t seem to bloody give much of a fuck, I was pleasantly surprised. Ok, well maybe not that surprised. After all, I’d known these fellas for years prior via their wonderfully loud and discordant band Wives. Anyway, after said show, I picked up two of their (now uber-rare) 12″s (let the bidding war begin!) and quite enjoyed them furthermore at home on record. Cut to the year 2008. I’d turned away for one second and the next thing I know is they’re (1) signed Sub Pop, (2) hanging out with Pete Wentz on MTV, and (3) topping off most “best of” lists with a record that isn’t even a fucking record-proper! (it’s a compilation). It seemed that just about everybody and their mother were jocking these guys. Yikes. But ok ok I’ll admit it, I’m not that surprised at all. It’s formulaic. And not only is No Age’s formula a tried-and-true one, its also easy to understand, namely: the music they write is good enough to warrant high praise from the kids who are musically knowledgeable, and all the while the music they write is similar enough and dumbed-down enough so that your everyday-glo teeny bopper blogger (and eventually Spin Magazine staff writer) will back it. On top of that (or more importantly), all the while No Age has fallen in line with and become a major a proponent of what I’ll call the “LA Dayglo-Hippie” fad-aesthetic (coolpartytime-everythingisgreat-takeacidinateepee-playinabathtubwithcrystalcastles-sansserifboldedtypefaces), that said wannabe dayglo teeny boppy blogger will identify with and adhere to solely by association. Subsequently, what’s worse is all the hyper-derivatives sure to come out of the woodwork (as we speak) and form knock-off versions of the band who was doing just fine without your help! (cough*Wavves*), culminating in a mass shark-jumping, until everyone eventually (A) jumps ship, (B) swims in shit, or (C) causes the state of California to finally break off and disappear into the ocean forever. What a mess! But guys, I saw this coming, and I swear I won’t let it happen again. Which brings us to Mi Ami (I get so worked up!) Mi Ami share a pretty similar lineage as the No Age boys. This trio (originally a duo), like No Age, comes from the ashes of a superb ex-band, in this case the great Black Eyes, who were much loved throughout the U.S. by a couple hundred kids, and exemplary of strict DIY and punk ethos. My guess is that much like No Age, what we’ll see with Mi Ami is a band who’ll hold tight early-on to their hardcore roots, but will shed more and more of that tough skin with each subsequent record in favor of a different palette in order to effectively relay the same message in a less static way. As No Age traded in the off-time, manic volume of Wives for shouty fuzz pop, Mi Ami will gradually trade in the no-wave-beat-backed neo-politics of Black Eyes for (I’m guessing) minimal tribal passages and dub-influenced drone. “African Rhythms”, (which, case-and-point already seems dated compared their stuff presently being pressed) sounds like the aforementioned Black Eyes versus Arab on Radar in a, well, African drumline. Even as good as the song is, I have to guess that Mi Ami will begin to opt for a sound that’s more subtle yet equally aggressive. And they’ll be better because of it: successfully bridging the gap between the immediate viscera of their roots in punk with a more avant-garde and worldly range of colors, which will appeal equally to political crusties, freak-folk weirdos, and, lest we forget, neon-electonica scum. Basically all this means is that we’re all in luck; and while we don’t know exactly in which direction Mi Ami is headed, we ought to believe that we’re in the market for a stack of, at the very least, interesting and progressive records. Technically speaking: Mi Ami has two LPs coming out in the next two weeks literally, so you should jump on that before it’s 2010 and you’re PayPal-ing 60 bucks to some weirdo for the first pressings. PS Dudes will be touring pretty much all year, make sure you catch them. Mark my words, this’ll be the band to beat in 2009.

51. Pocket Check - Windsurf

Windsurf (Internasjanal / 2008)

It takes a certain kinda song that can breach the 6+ minute mark and ensuingly hold my interest. Why so long, there must be a reason behind it! The understated beauty of “Pocket Check” is that anything short of its 7 minutes would simply not have been enough. There’s no endurance test here, and you hardly ever realize just how long you’ve been consumed by it. The attention you pay is indebted to how it’s built; “Pocket Check” is about layering, bottom to top, and all the while picking up speed in order to slow down more precisely. While the aforementioned “She’s The One” is the kind of musical bliss that’s loud, musky, and has you rubbed up against a room full of hot meat, “Pocket Check”’s bliss lies in its glistening and unwavering solitude. This is the outer-space disco of a plastic speedboat, if outer space looked iridescent white and smelled like a Cali beach in the springtime.

70-61

Wed, 21 Jan 2009 21:15:00 -0500

70. Unsung - Helmet

Meantime (Interscope / 1992)

Whenever (see: often) I find myself drinking at a bar and there happens to be a jukebox, I have basically 2 go-to picks. “Been Caught Stealing” by Jane’s Addiction is one. This is the other. If you didn’t already know “Unsung”, chances are you likely will recognize it (thanks to guys like me, at bars like yours), as this song is easily their most well-known. But if you didn’t: imagine a more sober Sabbath-era Ozzy singing over an early Snapcase piccolo-snare-and-guitar break. As good as the song is as a whole, for me the real magic occurs in the final minute and a half. Front-nerd Paige Hamilton stops singing and allows John Stanier (who now, not oddly enough, drums for Battles) complete control. The final 30 seconds are cathartic, Stanier building up to full sprint TAK TAK TAK TAK snare and then it’s all over way sooner and way sweeter than you’d imagined. Also, the original-edit music video (there were two versions that ended up airing) is one of my favorites ever. Neon shirts.

69. The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore - Walker Brothers

The Walker Brothers (Philips / 1966)

Who would’ve imagined that a song about the sun burning out could sound so dern inviting. Maybe these Walker Brothers were on to something; I guess the sun going out could be somewhat romantic, no? Let’s ask a scientist: “Within a week, the average global surface temperature would drop below 0°F. In a year, it would dip to –100°. The top layers of the oceans would freeze over, but in an apocalyptic irony, that ice would insulate the deep water below and prevent the oceans from freezing solid for hundreds of thousands of years. Millions of years after that, our planet would reach a stable –400°, the temperature at which the heat radiating from the planet’s core would equal the heat that the Earth radiates into space”, explains David Stevenson, a professor of planetary science at the California Institute of Technology. Thank you, nerd.

68. Sunshine Baby - Clout

Save Me 7” (Carrere / 1979)

The Merriam-Webster dictionary provided a few brief definitions for the word “clout”, one of which was “a piece of cloth or leather : rag”. If the lyrical content or delivery of “Sunshine Baby” gives any indication, I would imagine the girls of Clout had an alternate usage in mind when choosing their name. Because, excuse me for being a little crude, these girls ain’ton the rag. Er, how else could I put it. These girls aren’t bloody between the legs, they’re out to lick the blood from in between yours! Feel me? Okay, that may be a bit of an overstatement, but what at first seems like a groovy disco-influenced pop song, which it is, is also deceptively vicious. And aggressive. Chicks are on the prowl and we’ll say that they’re not exactly trying to NOT get laid (admit that the O on the record cover was supposed to look like a vagina). A pretty great sex-pop number to come out in ‘79 (from South Africa, no less), great bassline, great presence, and hardly over 3 minutes in length. Couldn’t ask for much more.

67. Sacred Love - Bad Brains

I Against I (SST / 1986)

Forget cowardly and newfangled studio trickery, for me a great unedited live-take is better than anything overly producey-sounding. Consider “Sacred Love” as one of the all-time greatest examples of the former camp, when you realize that the vocal track was actually recorded over the telephone from prison, where H.R. was locked up for selling weed. Fuck yes. It is that very telephone-line tonal quality that makes the song such a great one (you have to assume he’s somehow high even in jail still). Shit. I can’t say that I prefer I Against I-era Bad Brains to their early material, but the comparison likely isn’t a fair one when you consider how much the band had evolved in the span of a couple years. Classic record.

66. Aztlan - Antonio Zepeda

Retorno a Aztlan (Olinkan / 1990)

Would you like to create a character page for [MENU] // Warrior 4, Coatlicue 1, Warrior 7, Warrior 5, Ollin’s Wife, Skull Warrior, Ollin, Ancestor - Old, Main Wizard, Warrior 6, Warrior 2, Warrior, 1, Dignitary, Eagle Warrior, Warrier with Crosses, Ollin’s Son, Warrior 8, Village Elder, First Priest, Ancestor - Young, Coatlicue 2, Pochteca, Merchant, Second Priest, Man in Rags, Calpiqui, Tlacaelel, Dirty Youth, Ocelot Warrior, Warrior 3, Chief Warrior, White Warrior, Village Priest?

65. Anti, Anti, Anti - The Consumers

All My Friends Are Dead (In The Red / 2002)

Recorded in 1977, All My Friends Are Dead was an album remastered and released only in 2003. Due to, I’ll assume, some shockingly random chain of events (woah, I slipped on a banana peel and fell into this alternate universe!), Cali-based In The Red records made it happen. Ok fine, I’ll give them credit for that much. Guh. Also, if you’re anything like me, the fact that this jam is called “ANTI ANTI ANTI” and the record is called All My Friends Are Dead made it immediately great before I even copped it. I was further in luck because the song itself is even better than its titles suggest. That being said, I tend to drink to this a lot. Do yourself a favor and track down the entire record, as it should become one of your all time faves as it’s become one of mine. Super overlooked. FUCK PHEONIX

64. Halloween - Siouxsie & The Banshees

Juju (Polydor / 1981)

Everybody knows that Halloween rules. Man, you get to wear fake blood. Here’s a true story: This past Halloween I decided I’d take the train to some definitely dumb party in Asbury Park. I did my face up pretty well: lots of fake blood, lots of strange sticky cremes. After an hour or so in the bathroom, it was pretty clear that I’d be arriving as some sort of burn victim. I’d even made a believable neck wound. All set. I rode my bicycle to the train station. Not long after arriving, a decent sized group of post-trick-or-treating black girls approached me. Apparently they’d somehow forgotten it was Halloween, because they were convinced I’d been beat up or crawled out of a car wreck. Hm. I’d done a better job than I’d thought; I remained silent. A few other smaller children crawled out of candy bags and exclaimed similar sentiments. The novelty quickly wore off and I admitted that it was only makeup, which resulted in an eruption of disbelief which then turned into their silent and closer examination of my handiwork. “White people, y’all are weird”, I swear I heard one girl’s brain thinking. I lit a cigarette and it wasn’t long until one older girl had realized that one of her “Kee Kats” had been stolen from her bag. Who took her Kee Kat? Then the train arrived. Best holiday.

63. Coming For You - White Hills

They’ve Got Blood Like We’ve Got Blood (Fuck Off / 2005)

For me, this is the musical equivalent of blue balls, and I gotta say that’s why I like it. While I do feel that the dudes oughta’ve droned out for atleast four times as long as they actually did (3 minutes just ain’t enough time to get your motorik-proper on), conversely I have to admit that it’s brevity is one of the main reasons why everything works so well. Furthermore, in all fairness to the “artist”, “Coming For You” on record is flanked on both ends by 7+ minutes pieces of similarly droney krautrock, so you may have to scour eBay for the limited CD-R in order to truly consider this wee song’s place in the bigger picture. Sayin, it wouldn’t kill you to physically buy a record. Also, I’m pretty sure Julian Cope put this out.

62. Oh Lord - Brian & Dennis Wilson

The Cocaine Sessions (Unreleased / 1981)

On the day of his death in 1983, Dennis Wilson was quoted as saying “I’m lonesome, I’m lonesone all the time.” Pretty much. Overshadowed by brother Brian, Dennis, in my opinion, was arguably as gifted a songwriter, and this is illustrated by his bleary death-bed hymn “Oh Lord”. ” While “Oh Lord” to this day remains formally unreleased, the internet has allowed the infamous and drug-induced (guess which drug) Cocaine Sessions to find new light. Easily the session’s standout, the other tracks merely serve as spot-holders to assert “Oh Lord”’s apex position on the mantle of latter day Wilson-brother material. All in all, the Cocaine Sessions is an absolutely a wonderful and murky 30 minutes of tape, but you’ll hold on to it forever specifically because of this song. One of the sadder moments ever recorded.

61. Crescent City - Lucinda Williams

Lucinda Williams (Rough Trade / 1987)

Much like Dennis Wilson’s aforementioned “Oh Lord”, “Crescent City” is about a longing for things that have passed. But while Wilson’s song exists in an ethereal state where location is of no consequence, Williams paints her picture with site-specific references; yes, location exists as the narrative. Like many great songs of country-ilk, “Crescent City” is inextricably bound to geographic place. We know what Lucinda’s favorite bar is, what bridge she throws beer bottles off of, what VFW she does the Boot Scootin’ Boogie at, what color her mother’s butter churn is. “Crescent City” is specific to the point of being almost silly, but it isn’t, and that’s the point. Afterall, it’s not about how these places make her feel or what they mean, it’s that they exist at all.

80-71

Wed, 21 Jan 2009 20:06:00 -0500

80. Early In The Morning - The Gap Band

Gap Band IV (Total Experience / 1982)

One of my biggest character flaws is that I have the hardest time in the world waking up in the morning. If only I was more like Lonnie Simmons. As announced by the caw of some sort of urban-disco rooster, Simmons is up literally at the crack of dawn. “So I gotta get up early in the morning to find me another lover” goes the chorus. Now there’s a reason to get me out of bed. And I can relate to that. But, I gotta ask…. what’s even open so early? I don’t mean to be a dick, but this guy sounds so up in arms that you can just about picture him driving to the mall at 8 a.m. and heckling the poor women as they unfurl their Sunglass Hut kiosks. But it’s cool: my man is determined, steadfast, a person of action. I can’t knock that. And while the lyrical content alludes to this very-early, very-first part of day, it’s aesthetic is the opposite. It darts too quickly to be 8 a.m. at the mall. This is late night in the city, this is rummaging through trash cans. Poor Lonnie, he’s been doing this for who knows how long; and it’s jet-black night once again. Hopeless as it may seem, I’ll need to take Simmons’ advice. Gotta start waking up early. Just because I gotta.

79. Heavy Water/I’d Rather Be Sleeping - Grouper

Dragging A Dead Deer Up A Hill (Type / 2008)

Not only is Grouper (aka Liz Harris) already sleeping, the girl is out cold. “Heavy Water” is a fuzzy snapshot of Liz sleep-gasping as her raft (obviously made of woven fog wisps) gently sighs against a wet dock. It’s a miracle there are even any chord changes at all in the verses: they could have been early morning field recordings of any lake in the Pacific Northwest. That is, until the chorus, which finds Harris momentarily becoming slightly less unconscious, only to let you know that she’d “rather be sleeping” anyway. Gosh. And you want to offer her a life preserver or a pair of tie-dyed swimmies, but you’re already far too convinced that not only would she not take them, she wouldn’t even know how to use them.

78. The Hundredth Time - Gigi

Unreleased (2005)

Dear “The Hundreth Time”, My oh my, how you’ve grown!!! The first time I ever heard you, not even two months ago, I was so indifferent to you that I nearly deleted your file mid-first listen. But for some reason I paused, hovering in that moment where only out of sheer indecision does one wish to drag-and-drop something into the recycle bin’s abysmal hole forever, as to never have to make a choice about its honest value. But instead I did nothing. The next day I was casually listening to a newer crop of mp3s I’d recently foraged, and you happened to come on again. Somehow, I liked you more. A lot more. The next day I listened to you probably 3 or 4 times consecutively, and by the end of the week I’d burned you to blank-CD alongside nineteen other blessed songs, which I carried out to the car. I just wanted to congratulate you in having your fate secured for-all-time in my car-visor hall of fame. I’m so proud of you. See you tomorrow, I hope. Your Baby, John…P.S. What I like most is your Wall-of-Sound production. )))

77. Jungle Cry - Augustus Pablo

Authentic Golden Melodies (Rockers / 1974)

If you happen to find yourself listening to Jamaican dub or roots reggae and you hear a melodica, chances are you’re listening to Augustus Pablo. If, by an even slimmer chance, you happen to find yourself listening to Augustus Pablo and don’t know what a melodica is, chances are you wouldn’t have a rough time picking it out. The tonal quality of the melodica is a sound somewhere halfway between an accordian and my old computer printer (specifically, this crazy fucked up one i had in high school). If that doesn’t help, I could tell you that the band Gorillaz (brought to you by iPod) used one in that hit-single of theirs. I forget what it’s called. And also Ian Curtis played one sometimes. And according to the internet, so did Jars of Clay???

76. Son Of A Gun - The Vaselines

Son Of A Gun 12” (53rd & 3rd / 1987)

As much as I adore Nirvana, Kurt’s version of “Son of a Gun” (which first appeared on the Hormoaning LP) cannot hold a candle to the original. But it’s easy to see how a song like this would appeal to Kurt: literally three open major chords in the entire composition, droney monotonous vocals, a raggedly bare-bones almost-guitar solo, underlying weirdo specks of noise sprinkled throughout the backdrop, and most importantly, a brilliant shiny chorus that sounds much simpler than it actually is. The vocal melody executed on the “When you go awayyyyyy” lyric is the highlight. I’ve always thought “Son of a Gun” should be some sort of modern equivalent to Bill Withers’ “Ain’t No Sunshine”. Except you can buy this in edible gummi bear form. And 10 years from now Sting and Everlast won’t release a cover version.

75. You Don’t Fit - Send Help

You Don’t Fit 7” (Mutha / 1983)

In the early 80s, Long Branch-based Mutha Records put out a number of really good records. Like, really good records. If you didn’t know it, at the time, places like Asbury Park’s Fast Lane and Long Branch’s Brighton Bar were home to a brand new crop of pretty important (and at the time, extremely overlooked) hardcore bands that just-so-happened to all reside at the central Jersey Shore (see: my backyard). One of these bands was Chronic Sick. On their aptly titled Cutest Band in Hardcore LP, dude has a hand-drawn swastika on his forehead and another is wearing a dress. Classic. Another one of these bands was Fatal Rage. Jacko (you know him) sang for this band who were banned from the same bar that, years later and to this very day, he works the door at. Classic. A third one of these bands, and my personal favorite, was Send Help. While musically not as in-your-face as the aforementioned bands, spot-on lines like “who needs this fucking world” and “i’d rather fuck sheep, if I did I wouldn’t get AIDS” quickly helped make their You Don’t Fit 7″ become one of my all time faves of this era in hardcore.

74. I’m Transmitting Tonight - Tim Hecker

Radio Amor (Mille Plateaux / 2003)

Can somebody wipe the dew off my nose? I’d do it myself but I’m too busy steering the boat. :inaudible dialogue: Yeah, well ordinarily I wouldn’t mind, but this Whaler’s made entirely out of glass…… Yep, Glass…… Yep, Boston. :Cough, cough, achoooooo: We’re just about to hit open waters so I’m gonna really gun it, you know? Wooooooooooooooooosh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-shhhhhh. Y-y-youuuu f-f-feeeeeel that-t-t??????????????_______ack. Did you hear the humming this whole time? I suspect we’re suspended in ice. :inaudible dialogue: Yeah, a glac-c-c-c-c-c-ier. It’s melting.

73. Disturbia - Rihanna

Disturbia CDS (Def Jam / 2008)

Rihanna lost a couple points in my book this past fall after I caught her dismal MTV VMA performance of “Disturbia”. More than a few botched notes were sung, all those Mad Max Road Warrior-looking dudes were running around, and homegirl herself was kinda just hanging out as if she didn’t even know why she was there; it seemed too forced and limp all at once, but more than anything, was disappointing because it should have been really awesome (in all honesty, the Jonas Brothers performance was significantly better). This scenario also made it harder to now-argue the case to my also-VMA-watching friends that “Disturbia” was in fact, at the heart of it, a really good song. I made a quick comment, suggesting I was disenchanted by what I’d just seen. No response. So I kept quietly sipping on my Steel Reserve, all the while thinking to myself “but it iss a good song“, regardless of whether or not they were buying it. And here’s why. First off, lyrically it’s fairly odd and dark for a pop song, while musically it’s ignorantly blissful (ie you’re grinding up on an shadowy-figure when you should potentially be running for your life). The lifeline of the song is not a brief one, but instead quite comprehensive. It’s autobiographical. It’s designed for the artist (Rihanna) to live within, but also carries room for the spectator (us) to move around in as well. We are not presented with an “in spite of” dilemma. Rihanna is well aware that her situation is dire, but not for the sake of obtaining our sympathy. Furthermore, “Disturbia” has branded itself with a near-daft, definitely-undead cheerleader chant, which gives the song its legs as well as provides a playfullness which adequately contrasts the subject matter. Some specific highlights: Rihanna’s made-of-moonrock vocoder and billions of tracked vocals layered on so syrupy-thick that she might as well be singing through a fucking light saber; and the bridge’s “Release me from this curse I’m in” lyric coupled with some sort of Playskool electric xylophone . Hey, I got the goosebumps.

72. Leave It On Its Own (Pimmon Remix) - Sun

Sun (Staubgold / 2003)

I never know just where to place a song like this. See, it follows this roughly pebbled path headed in a definite direction to somewhere, but it’s also malleable just enough for me to plug it into a number a different scenarios which could potentially work beautifully. I run through the options in my head: hm, this might be nice take a brisk mid-afternoon drive to, or boy i’d really love to wake up early on a sunny Sunday morning to the sound of this playing softly, or i wonder what it would be like to have sex to this song, orwoah, my mom probably would really enjoy this if I burned the CD for her. Ok, I know what you’re thinking: the word “sex” and the word “mom” should never be so close to each other in any sentence. Ever. Cause moms don’t have sex. They just don’t. And you’re right. Anyway, I think I’m done now. I lurrrrve this song.

71. When You Were Pearls - The Bridal Shop

Bay The Moon CD-R (Cloudberry / 2007)

I swear to god almighty, can someone please tell me where the instrument-toting-Swede demon-seed first germinated from?? It seems like every other person in that country’s in a band these days. Ok, I’ll admit: although these people share my bloodline, I know little about the place itself. One thing I do know is that they’ve got that free health care set-up. Which is excellent. Conversely, a thing that I did not realize was that clearly someone passed a bill (I believe it’s called the Tigermilk Doctrine) which by law, requires the state to give each newborn child a microKORG along with a pressing of Belle and Sebastian’s second record. If you’re anything like me, this country to you now sounds like one of the lower tiers of hell (damn those blue-eyed devils), especially when you next find out that Bay The Moon was released as a THREE inch CD-R. I think it comes with a tiny scarf (scratch prevention). In any event, “When You Were Pearls” is kind of a pretty excellent song. Considering the sheer amount of music being shipped to us via them overseas, there’s a pretty fine line between shimmery ambient pop goodness, and grandma-sweater-wearing kitschy shit-rock. This sits near the top of the former category. It’s strength lies in it’s modesty, and I back that.

90-81

Wed, 21 Jan 2009 18:24:00 -0500

90. Cry Baby Flowers - Hisuto Higuchi

Butterfly Horse Street (Family Vineyard / 2007)

Everybody knows that the Japanese are better than white people at almost everything. One obvious example would be gardening. Case and point: “Cry Baby Flowers” happens to sound a lot like how the cover of Butterfly Horse Street looks: A bit dense and maybe even confusing at first, but each element becoming more imperative and beautiful with each dig-through-the-topsoil deeper. This is the fertilizer-induced fever dream of the lawncare professional who’s passed out on your lattice, and it plays like those Discovery Channel time-lapse photography videos look. Because you’ve been wondering what a guitar made out of 100 years worth of dead leaves sounds like.

89. Never My Love - The Association

Never My Love 7” (Warner Bros / 1967)

Ever been so emotionally wrecked that you’ve forgotten proper punctuation usage? The Association has. Clearly, these are some sad boys. So, when the mopey 20-somethings say to you “never my love”, what they really mean is “never (comma) my love”. The difference is a big one. It’s like saying “No” when you really meant “Yes”. Or admitting “I’ve never loved you” instead of “I’d never hurt you”. It would be like walking up to your special somebody’s doorstep with every intention of dropping down on one muppety knee to propose, and instead, accidentally chucking a backpack full of garbage at her storm door and sprinting up the street. Luckily, after a few listens, I got what they really meant. But shit, man.

88. Slow Heart - Moonbeam

Spring Story 12” (Traum Schallplatten / 2008)

Remember when people went to raves? I don’t. I also don’t remember a whole lot about the “rave scene” in general, aside from MTV’s millisecond of commercial interest early in the 90s, when Kurt Loder would show up at some warehouse wearing a KMFDM t-shirt and interview any scraggly rave-orphan he could get his hands on. Kurt showed us the obvious: weirdo laser light shows, weirdo basement drugs, weirdo dudes from Germany, and an unquestionable abundance of weirdo pants. But, I ask you Kurt, what happens to the rave when all the ravers grow up? It’s hard to say, but “Slow Heart” probably sounds a lot like the deserted warehouse just before dawn. 15 years after the fact. This is truly strung-out stuff, but somehow also eerily calm…. Ok, so you’re still on drugs.

87. Oh My God - Ida Maria

Oh My God 7” (Nesna / 2007)

A plausible dialogue. Friend: “Hey John, there’s this song you should listen to”. Me: “Oh yeah? What’s the name of the band?” // Friend: “Ida Maria.” // Me: “UGH. That sounds really gay.” // Friend: “No, it isn’t.” // Me: “Hmm. Well, where are they from?” // Friend: “They’re from somewhere in Scandinavia.” // Me: “UGH. That sounds actually gay.” // Friend: “No, it really isn’t.” // Me: “Wait, wait, let me guess. They have really cute accents and wear purposely dowdy clothing and have a girl with swoopy bangs who plays the clarinet.” // Friend: “No. This song’s got bar chords. And I think it’s about being mentally insane. And the singer has this fucked up condition called synesthesia which makes her hallucinate all the time. And she’s also kind of fat.” // Me: “Cool. Put it on.” // Friend: “Ok, but before I do, you have to promise me that you’ll never listen to any other song they’ve ever recorded.” // Me: “I promise.”

86. Not The Average - Jeru The Damaja

Wrath of the Math (Payday / 1996)

Ah, hip-hop with a positive message. It saw its heyday in the dawn of the 90s. Then it got pretty bad and people stopped caring. Then LL gave it a shot but the song sucked (not that you believed him anyway). Then that dude wrote that song about skateboarding. Whatever. So, when Jeru tells you “Girlfriend, I’m not chya average nigga”, it wouldn’t be unreasonable of you to expect more of the same regardless of how fucking cool my man sounds saying it. After all, everybody’s hood-rich these days. And as we all know, the un-average nigga is the new average nigga. So, then how are you supposed to “out-nigga” your homeboys in 2008? Prophylaxis, that’s how!

85. No Alibis - Chisel

Tatterfrock Compilation 7” (Tatterfrock / 1996)

Although he still mostly looks like he’s 20 years old, there was a point in time when Ted Leo was actually 20 years old. Ted, at 20, was a dapper (and, I’m guessing, smart alec-y) lad attending the (you guessed it) University of Notre Dame, where he started a band called Chisel. But, as you’re grandfather or other weird older father figure has told you, life was tougher back then. “You’ll never make it kid, you’re too small to play guitar at Notre Dame”, they would exclaim. But Ted stuck to his guns. Chisel put out awesome records, and Chisel went on tour with Karate; but only a few people cared. Nonetheless, shortly thereafter Chisel broke up only to see Ted get super indie-famous with his band The Pharmacists who, while more consistent, never quite matched the desperate youth and heart of “No Alibis”. ROOOOO-DEEEEEE!!!!!!

84. Graduate - Third Eye Blind

Third Eye Blind (Elektra / 1997)

“Graduate” feels like the 90s. And yeah, my brother and I got it on CD (a technology brand new to us at the time) when I was 7th grade, but I’d be lying if I said that those first 10 seconds still didn’t get me pretty stoked. After that 10-count, when the rhythm literally bounces in, so does Stephen Jenkin’s lisp (and you’re “moshing”) in a ‘92 Nissan Sentra. It kind of makes you want to egg a bunch of old people’s houses just because they don’t deserve it. “Graduate” is a great example of the what I’ll refer to as “last-wave alternative rock”: completely by-the-book in terms of its sound and not “alternative” at all in terms of its intent. But this song represents a rare case in said genre in that it, despite those two traits, somehow finds a way to connect in a concrete way that even today, for me at age 24, feels completely relevant.

83. Golden Lady - Stevie Wonder

Innervisions (Motown / 1973)

More than once in 2008, I had this bizarre dream where I was one of those weird guys who free-climb up the faces of mountains. In the dream, I have a pack full of climbing ropes and, although I’ll need them to reach the summit, I refuse to use them. So instead I just stand there. And I am very thirsty. And there are all these strange birds walking around and some of them have troll doll heads. One time “Golden Lady” was playing from the forest somewhere. Dreams are pretty strange, eh? Mostly the troll doll hair part. And like troll doll hair, the song’s strength lies in the fact that it is dense and at the same time entirely weightless. At the first snip, that shit is ready to forever float away into the sunset. Like the weird one on the Innervisions cover. Or like the weird one from my dreams.

82. Chambers of Horror - Tales of Terror

Tales of Terror (CD Presents / 1984)

Do you like the Dead Boys? Tales of Terror pretty much sound a lot like the Dead Boys. But scarier. And more psychotic. And like many of the great punk bands of the early 80s, a couple of these dudes are long dead (most notably guitar player Lyon Wong, who was literally curbed outside a venue by a high school quarterback and later died of head trauma). A couple reasons to like this: Cops hated them, Kurt loved them, and the final minute of “Chambers of Horrors” is flawless, either because you’ve never heard someone make the word “Hello” sound so unreal or because you’re trapped down there in the dark and you don’t a choice but to like it.

81. Come Wander With Me - Bonnie Beecher

Unreleased (1964)

Though originally written for a Twilight Zone episode of the same name, you may best know “Come Wander With Me” from it’s occupance on the soundtrack of Vincent Gallo’s ego-fest The Brown Bunny. Bunny’s appearance at the 2003 Cannes Film Fest resulted in a (AND I QUOTE) “war of words between Gallo and film critic Roger Ebert, with Ebert writing that The Brown Bunny was the worst film in the history of Cannes, and Gallo retorting by calling Ebert a “fat pig with the physique of a slave trader”. Ebert then responded, paraphrasing a statement attributed to Winston Churchill, that “one day I will be thin, but Vincent Gallo will always be the director of The Brown Bunny.” Gallo then claimed to have put a hex on Ebert’s colon, cursing the critic with cancer. Ebert then replied that enduring his colonoscopy would be more entertaining than watching The Brown Bunny. Gallo subsequently stated that he had been misquoted, and that the hex had actually been placed on Ebert’s prostate, and that the whole thing had been meant as a joke which was misinterpreted by a reviewer.” A+

100-91

Wed, 21 Jan 2009 16:51:00 -0500

100. Deathwish - Christian Death

Deathwish (L’Invitation Au Suicide / 1984)

The fact that Roger Alan Painter (aka Rozz Williams) took his stage name from a gravestone inscription he came across while hanging out in a cemetery pretty much sums up the appeal of this song for me. Dude is mental and he knows it, but instead of immediately killing himself (that won’t happen ’till the late 90s) he makes it work for him. Shitty-perfect guitar tones, horror-of-everyday-life goth worship, and one big Christian Dior reference only add to the mystique of Painter’s own preemptive self-apocolypse. I see the end! I seee the endddd!!!

99. Any Old Time Will Do - Roy Wood

Mustard (Jet / 1975)

Roy is here, and he is drinking wine with you, but don’t believe much else he says. While “any old time” might do for the moment, this is a man far too polite to ask for exactly what he really wants. This is Wood half-buzzed on shitty zinfandel and literally dancing with himself in your living room, and the waltzy all-too-brief post-chorus bits are testaments to the moments when these facts seem to catch up to him. Lyrically, while Wood may seem like a complete pushover, the saxophone solo and spot-on ELO-inspired arrangements suggest he might, sooner than later, stop showing up at your place.

98. Bad Drug - Sun Dial

Acid Yantra (Atlantic / 1995)

To assume that, in his day, frontdude Gary Ramon has eaten a boatload of weirdo drugs, would probably be to assume correctly. But here’s the dilemma. In the same breath, Ramon at once half-heartedly denounces being fucked up while being completely fucked up himself. Admittedly, shit is fun for a while, but god-damn it’s become guilt-free no longer. Acid Yantra-era Sun Dial shows the band in their growing-up-while-coming-down stage (ie you’re mostly sober, you’re mostly head-banging). And while this record might not be as pungent as their back catalogue, it predates the mantra of contemporary neo-psychedelia which, while aesthetically more evolved, is similarly both slacker and pro-active all at once.

97. The Day The World Turned Dayglo - X-Ray Spex

Germfree Adolescents (EMI / 1978)

X-Ray Spex may have been dubbed as “deliberate underachievers”, but you would’ve been too if you owned a rocketship. There’s all that maintenance to be done, ever-increasing rocketship taxes to be paid, and above all (pun intended) the ability to lift-off and leave our atmosphere. Who could resist? Not me. There’s a trick to it though. In order to start the ignition, the astronaut must first shriek a barely distinguishable “YOU KNOWWW????” sound, in addition to a hearty “WAHHHOH!” sound. If possible, confine the two sounds to one single word. Do it well enough, and suddenly you’ll find yourself blasting off in the rickety plastic spacecraft, ears stuffed-up with insulation that might as well be cotton candy. You feel great because Poly Styrene is your co-pilot and she’s wearing rainbow colored face-paint, and wow does that one-man brass section sound perfect from the moon.

96. Stop Singing - Mount Eerie

Black Wooden Ceiling Opening (Elverum & Sun / 2008)

Few moments in 2008 were as cumbersome and slow-head-bang-worthy as the huge-mother fucking-boulder of a mark that sits 4:10 into “Stop Singing”. Admittedly, after the last couple of forlorn records that Mr. Elverum had released, I wished he’d titled this song “Stop Fucking With Me”, which included lyrics that outlined my theory of his self-enforced habit of periodically releasing intentionally mediocre work, and (in the same breath) go on to thank me for helping him come to grips with his deliriously narcissistic ego. And I’d have completely forgiven the man. Luckily enough for Phil, the gigantic riffage in “Stop Singing” makes “Stop Fucking With Me” no longer necessary, but, knowing him, it will probably be released on vinyl next month anyway.

95. Back To Nature - Fad Gadget

Back To Nature 7” (Mute / 1979)

“It’s gonna rain all night, but we’ll be alright.” Please try and feel good when the Fad Gadget man himself (Frank Tovey) tells you he’s got your back. Please also count your lucky stars, when you take a moment to consider that Tovey is toting an electric drill and he wants to kiss you on the mouth. The problem is, the drill sounds a lot like the scariest fucking rain forest you’ve never heard of, plus there’s mad duct tape on that shit, so you know dude has been doing some serious tinkering. This early-era Gadget stuff pretty much sounds a lot like Joy Division’s bleakest material, except instead of hovering like a ghost in a cave, you’re on the ground, soaking wet and sleeping on carpenter screws.

94. Die Sleeping - Kap10Kurt

Die Sleeping 12” (Memory Boy / 2007)

There are a number of reasons why I should hate this. For starters, “Kap10Kurt” is hands down one of the worst aliases I’ve ever fucking heard of. Ever. Especially when you discover that dude’s birth name is actually Kurt. And Kurt (as we’ll now call him) hails from Switzerland, but recently moved to the East Village where he (according to his website) “focuses on extremely rhythmic and muscular basslines and strong drumbeats that fly straight into your ears like blazing starfighters”. And while none of those things ever happened at all, Kurt does us a huge favor by not singing on the track himself, but instead enlisting would-be-virgin-suicide Nellie McKay, who, within the first five seconds of the song, has me convinced that floating away with her forever sounds too sweet an invitation to pass up.

93. So Lonely - Tim Buckley

Blue Afternoon (Straight / 1970)

According to a posthumous 1977 article in Down Beat magazine, it was claimed that “Buckley’s heart was not into the Blue Afternoon sessions” and that the record was only released in an attempt to please his “business” people. Well, I call bullshit. His heart may sound like it’s beating a little off-time, but that’s because it is. Picture Tim with his arms gently folded, aware that life sucks pretty bad sometimes and also kinda high on morphine. But it’s not the opiates that do the talking; these are just one of the many tools in his belt. After all, cops do treat you dirty, definitely, and children can be pretty mean. “But it’s sooooo lonelyyyyyy mamaaaa” was easily one of my most favorite single lines and vocal deliveries of the year. This song finds me, more than often, nodding “yes, yes” to Tim as he beats my heart to the punch with every single chorus.

92. Baby (Caetano Veloso) - Gal Costa

Gal Costa (Philips / 1969)

I’ll be the first to admit it: I do not and most likely never will learn to speak Portuguese. If somehow you find this statement entirely offensive, I’m only sort of sorry. Don’t get me wrong, I think the language is beautiful, but I’m just not so sure a guy like me has the chops to pull it off. Luckily, Maria da Graca Costa Penna Burgos does. Bigtime. And not only that, in the 1960s Costa was at the forefront of Brazil’s Tropicalia movement. Meanwhile, I’m sitting in my parent’s house in my underwear completely confident that I cannot even pronounce her full name properly. Few things are as lush as this chorus: string arrangements windswept by ocean waves coupled by that little lonely word in English. That word is “Baaaabyyyyy” and :blush: it sounds just as whimsical as it does devastating. You go, gal.

91. Are You Receiving? - Killing Joke

Almost Red 12” (Island / 1979)

Well, are you?? Clearly, these Brits don’t believe you are. So with each distorted guitar/organ swell, the powered-by-human-flesh machine that is Killing Joke licks back up every word it’s just spit out onto your fat face. The swells work like the reset button on your first Nintendo: restarting something for the sole purpose of restarting something, and after 7 glazed-over hours, you’re convinced you don’t want to play “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” ever again . But you do. And much like “Tom Sawyer”, this song is not about figuring out what the message means; it’s about receiving the message in the first place: you either get it or you don’t.

100 Songs From Infinity

Wed, 21 Jan 2009 16:18:00 -0500

MISSION STATEMENT
So, 2008 is sputtering gracefully toward its timely end. Flawless. In the event of this, blackest of years, I wanted to make some sort of cumulative list of the songs which have become inextricably weaved into these last 365 days of mine. In addition to that, although I do often romanticize the prospect of attempting to assemble some sort of “Best Of” list that is exclusive to tracks donning 2008 release dates, much to the chagrin of my musical (un)peers, I opt to not attempt that methodology for the following reasons:

(ONE) Not only have I not listened to the majority of the billions of records that came out in 2008, I mostly don’t give a fuck about listening to the majority of the billions of records that came 2008.

(TWO) Nearly all the “Best Of” lists I have shuffled through thus far moderately-to-completely blow, which leads me to believe that either 2008 moderately-to-completely blew, or you should maybe narrow it down to 10 songs rather than 500.

(THREE) Though not technically new or released in 2008, a fair amount of the songs I’ve included were new to me (in the span of this year). That being said, I wanted to assign these “new to me” songs an equal weight as those (unquote) new songs which officially came out this year.

(FOUR) Though not technically new or released in 2008, a large chunk of the songs I’ve included were songs I’d heard or liked at any point in my life pre-’08, but (in the span of this year) have acquired a new resonance, a new relevance, or just got played a lot of fucking times.

(FIVE) Finally, and most importantly, I want this list to be about my own year in music, and not about forcing some sort of list that will be more or less irrelevant come two weeks from now. If you are looking to find a treasure trove of gems from only the past year, look elsewhere. (I haven’t counted, but I would guess there are no more than 10 songs from 2008). More than anything, this is a document for myself (as well as others) to leaf through a comprehensive and long-deliberated record of my most-favorite, most-played, and most divinely resonant compositions of 2008.

~~I will count down my list in 10-songs-per-day installments, culminating with the Top 10 on New Year’s Eve.~~

Er, I will count down my list in 10 song installments, on a somewhat sporadic basis, depending on how stupid busy my life is.

All tracks are up for download.