I feel I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge that today is September 11th. That said, I've never been much for political commentary or coverage of current events here. What does amaze me about the passing of another 9/11 anniversary is how little has changed and yet how weird it is that that terrible day was EIGHT years ago. Yes, we have a new president but little else is different; have you seen Ground Zero lately? And the amount of soldiers killed in the Iraq and Afghanistan Wars has eclipsed the death toll of September 11th. So take some time to reflect or whatever you do to observe this anniversary. Onto the music.
As always, I have a mental logjam of material worthy of consideration here on Fridays; while I usually feature just one artist, I figured today I will spotlight three songs by three different artists. This begs the question: "How can music be 'crucial' if each artist only merits one selection?". Excellent question. Fact is, none of these artists were ever even considered stars (though each do have cursory Wikipedia entries) but to me, each artist did manage to write one song that still gives me pleasure 23, 20 and 18 years later; that oughta mean something. They're all British too and a bit on the wispy side; not a lot of muscle here but great poppy melodies. And if you knew or dated me in the 80s/90s, chances are one of these songs showed up on a mixtape.
First up: Blancmange, apparently it's a sort of pudding. Bad band name. They did write a helluva song though, oddly the song I chose wasn't one of the seven Top 40 Hits they managed in England but rather a 'depth' cut from their third album: Believe You Me. Though the chances of me landing a Music Supervisor gig are slim, this would make a great 'closing credits song' for the right movie. Behold: "Why Don't They Leave Things Alone" And those pops you hear at the beginning are genuine; I ripped this off the vinyl LP circa 1999.
This next song comes from a Leeds band whose name has a loftier origin than pudding: a T.S. Eliot poem called The Hollow Men. They are not to be confused with a Des Moines, Iowa band called The Hollowmen (who were fantastic). The Hollow Men didn't really distinguish themselves in their native UK or in the US (no singles charted in either country) but they did land a major label recording contract on both continents. If you ask me, I think they chose the wrong single from their one and only BMG album Cresta; the band (or more likely the label) chose the decent "The Moons A Balloon" [sic], (bad grammar notwithstanding) whereas, "Don't Slow Down" was the song that enchanted me and was a staple on my college radio show back in 1990. I almost went to see them at Metro that summer, almost.
Finally we arrive an and artist (and song) whose first single had me thinking, "Wow, this new Depeche Mode single is fantastic!" The song was "The Great Commandment" from Camouflage and while that was a good song, the second single from their Voices and Images record was even better, even if it also sounded a lot like Depeche Mode. After all, there weren't many better bands to emulate in the late 1980s/early 1990s, maybe The Cure? At any rate, the strength of "That Smiling Face " was enough to command me to buy the cassingle (remember cassette singles??!) and eventually the full-length compact disc. Oh, and the pops and clicks you hear at the beginning of this track were added by the artist, perhaps a nod to the end of the vinyl era.
Have a great weekend, mine will be rock-filled: Datarock at Double Door on Friday and U2/Snow Patrol at Soldier Field on Saturday.
I don't age well. It's not that I look bad for a guy reeealy close to 40 (though I could lose a few pounds) I still get carded occasionally when buying alcohol, though I suspect that's more ass-covering on the part of the vendor than flattery. It's more that I don't like the unambiguous milestones, you can get married whenever you want and not feel old but your 20th high school reunion will always happen twenty years after you graduate high school and mine has come and gone. It scares me a bit that my freshman year of college was twenty one years ago. It was the fall of my sophomore year of college that one of the greatest debut albums of my lifetime came out: the self-titled debut of The Stone Roses. That's me (far right) enjoying a Marlboro and and Old Style circa Autumn 1989.
Like a lot of records that have come out since 1984, I was working in radio, so I was able to hear The Stone Roses in advance of a lot of the hype. I remember spinning "I Wanna Be Adored" on my college radio show and being blown away. Part of the beauty of "Adored" is how slowly it builds, some sound effects, then that insistent bassline, then finally guitar and drums and of course Ian Brown's vocal. In an era of overproduction (think Living Color's "Cult of Personality" which came out at around the same time) The Stone Roses debut is conspicuous in its' almost underproduction. It keeps the album from sounding dated. Of course, "Adored" is the best of the lot but "Waterfall" was the next song that I discovered after repeat listens, shimmering guitar work from John Squire, a timeless song. If there's one thing British bands of any era lack, it's swagger and the Roses had it in spades, how else could you name a song "I Am The Resurrection" with tongues nowhere near anyone's cheeks. They make it work though which ain't easy to do in a 7+ minute song. They enjoyed stretching out, another classic from the Roses (but not on the original pressing of the debut) "Fool's Gold" checks in at 9:35.
The cliche goes, "You have your whole life to make your first album and a year to make the second". Well, the Roses tried to stave off the sophomore slump for five years but the (hopefully) cheekily titled Second Coming failed to set the world on fire. It had its' moments but none came close to the magic of the first album. There's no denying "Love Spreads" rocks hard but ends up sounding like a British version of The Black Crowes, which is ironic seeing as how the Crowes always wanted to be Faces and Led Zeppelin.
There were rumblings earlier this year about the Roses reforming for a 21 date UK tour but they seemed to have fizzled out. Hey, we've always got the first record, right? Have a great weekend and if you own it, give that first record a spin; you'll be surprised how great it still sounds and given the autumnal weather we've been having in Chicagoland, it will be the perfect aural companion to your weekend.
I wonder aloud (onscreen) here what my conversion rate is on Fridays. By conversion rate, I mean how many of you come here, see an artist you've never heard or even heard of and listen. Dating back to The Unheard Music and now with this fledgling feature, I almost always have one person in mind who I know will appreciate the artist I've chosen (Matt and Dave, I'm thinking of you two this week) but I hope that those of you who aren't that person give an artist a chance. Let me know. Today's band embodies the spirit of The Unheard Music but also are quite Crucial, at least to my music collection.
Like so many British bands before them (and American bands in reverse) Swervedriver had a healthy obsession with American culture, specifically that of the automobile. Cars and driving factor heavily in a lot of Swervedriver songs. Not coincedentally, a great deal of their music also sounds really good whilst driving with insistent rhythms and pile-driving guitars. "Rave Down" was my first taste of Swervedriver, a hell of an introduction. My lid sufficiently flipped, I plunked down my hard-earned, college-student dough for their debut album Raise. Even better than "Rave Down" was the blistering "Sandblasted", complete with a bridge that slows to almost a complete stop before plunging headlong back into the orignal tempo.
Following good reviews for Raise, the band upped the ante for their second album--Mezcal Head-- enlisting superstar producer Alan Moulder (Depeche Mode, My Bloody Valentine, U2) to bring his exacting touch. The result was better songs with a sonic clarity only hinted at on their debut and a finer melodic sense as well. "Duel" ended up being their biggest hit and "Blowin' Cool" showcased the newfound melodies. The next two albums weren't initially released in the U.S. but found their way via imports or licensing deals. By the end of the 1990s they were on hiatus. A few years back, singer Adam Franklin released a fine solo record Bolts of Melody and then inspired by the successful Pixies reunion, the band reunited last year and (among other cities) played Chicago (at Metro). Sadly, I couldn't make the show but was told it was epic. Following (the inevitable) deluxe CD re-issues, one wonders what the future holds for Swervedriver?
Have a great weekend, enjoy the music! Cool, Autumnal weather forecast for the weekend.
Let's play lead singer word association: I name the band, you supply the lead singer. U2? R.E.M.? The Replacements? Hüsker Dü? Of course the answers are: Bono, Michael Stipe, Paul Westerberg and if you said Bob Mould, you'd be right about 62% of the time, for the other 38% (approximately, I didn't have time to break it down to exact figures) the answer would be the sadly overlooked Grant Hart, who wrote some of my favorite Hüsker Dü songs. I have a deep and profound respect for Bob Mould but I've already covered him on this blog and and Mr. Hart is long overdue for recognition.
In the Beatles camp, Paul McCartney was known as the guy who wrote the fun, poppier songs and Lennon was responsible for the more issue-oriented, serious material. And for a band that went from pure pop to more socially-conscious fare, that was an important distinction. There are exceptions but you get the point. In Hüsker Dü, they went from a dead-serious, warp speed, punk rock band to a band that evolved into not exactly a 'pop' band but a band that wrote some poppy material. Grant Hart was a key figure in that development. He had his dark material (ever heard "Diane"?!) but if you were looking for the whimsical, poppy and (at times) funny in the Hüsker Dü catalog, chances are you'd find a Hart composition. Think "Books About UFOs", "Green Eyes", "Flexible Flyer", "I Don't Want To Know If You're Lonely", "She Floated Away" and the silly but fun "Baby Song". While they had a good run, the constant struggles between Hart and Mould broke up Hüsker Dü. Yes, I'm oversimplifying.
That contrast between the softer Hart and harder-nosed Mould was especially evident in their first respective post-Hüsker Dü solo releases. Mould's solo debut Workbook featured the not-so-thinly-veiled "Poison Years", whereas Hart's first single cast the breakup of Hüsker as a couple splitting up in the beautiful "2541". "2541" is not only my favorite post Hüsker song from Hart (or Mould) but remains among my favorite songs ever written. Its' beauty lies in its' simplicity: three chords and a catchy chorus. Hart then formed Nova Mob, which was more complex but still yielded some great material, like "All Of My Senses ". Even between solo work and Nova Mob, records were few and far between but in 1999, Hart released a great solo record called Good News For Modern Man which featured "Nobody Rides For Free". Music from Hart continues to be sporadic at best compared to Mould's prolific pace, but rarely disappoints. A Hüsker reunion seems as unlikely as The Smiths mending fences but so long as both Hart and Mould continue to write and record, that might be even better as we get more material out of the arrangement.
When we left off two weeks ago, our man Lloyd Cole had just split up his Commotions. Since this was the pre-Internet era, news was spotty at best, a paragraph in NME or a mention in Spin here and there. It turned out Lloyd had fled Europe for Manhattan where he assembled some of the best session men on the planet for his first solo record. He hired Lou Reed studio drummer Fred Maher to produce and play drums, former Voidoid Robert Quine on lead guitar and (then relatively) unknown Matthew Sweet on bass guitar, he retained the services of former Commotion Blair Cowan on keys.
The resulting album, the self-titled Lloyd Cole wasn't really a vast departure from the Commotions albums but Quine and Maher did give it a decidedly NYC flair. "Sweetheart" was certainly the most rocking song Lloyd had recorded up until that point. New York gave him a wealth of new geography to reference "What Do You Know About Love". Even the B-sides from those sessions were of a high order, "Witching Hour" was the third 'bonus' track on the "No Blue Skies" single and has some great playing from Quine. When Matthew Sweet was recording his breakthrough Girlfriend record, producer Fred Maher basically enlisted the same core band of Maher and Quine and Sweet (or perhaps Maher) asked Lloyd to play guitar on about half of the record, most notably on "Don't Go".
And then for something completely different, Cole's next album was a hybrid affair: half basic rock, half orchestral rock. The rock part yielded an American hit in "She's A Girl And I'm A Man" with a nice bass line provided by Matthew Sweet. Side Two was Lloyd's sharp songcraft augmented by a full orchestra, arranged and scored by the legendary Paul Buckmaster. It was a critical success but failed to meet Capitol Records' expectations and would be the last record Lloyd would make for them and his last on a major label.
Cole found a new home with Ryko, who released the Bad Vibes record which was by all accounts a difficult process but it did yield some quality songs, including a different type of Cole song in "Too Much Of A Good Thing". It was at this point that whether consciously or not, Lloyd stopped swinging for the fences in America. He was never going to be the superstar in the States that he was in Europe. He moved out of NYC and out into the countryside of Western Massachusetts. The albums that followed: Love Story & with The Negatives were more stripped down but no less engaging, "Like Lovers Do" should've been a big hit. An album called Plastic Wood uncovered an unknown side to Cole's songwriting: a solid creator of moody, atmospheric instrumentals, "Manhattan Chase" could've been part of a film score.
These days, Cole has carved out a nice little musical niche for himself. He avoids full-scale tours but instead books solo gigs a few weeks at a stretch both Stateside and abroad. He also continues to write and record and release an album every other year or so with some highly ambitious projects inbetween. In the last three years, Cole's released one proper studio record Antidepressant, three BBC archival live albums (two with the Commotions, one solo) two live solo reocords (recorded in Germany and Ireland) and a wonderfully annotated four CD boxed set of B-sides and outtakes. Whether you're a seasoned Lloyd Cole fan or a newcomer, his catalog is well worth revisiting; to my ears he's one of the most underappreciated singer/songwriters of the last 25 years. He's also very active on his blog (which I have linked to since my first post here, five years ago) and should you endeavor to purchase music from him (and you should) Lloyd will go out of his way to personalize and/or sign materials for you at not extra charge. My wife bought me the Cleaning Out the Ashtrays boxed set for my birthday, which included a nice personal inscription and signature.
I know I said I'd feature Part II of Lloyd Cole this week but I didn't have enough time to give Lloyd his proper treatment, so it will have to wait until next week. Today I will focus on a band that is about as far from Lloyd Cole as is possible: The Jesus Lizard, who reunite (after an 11 year hiatus) this evening for The Pitchfork Festival.
I really dislike music festivals. I have nothing against people who do, it's just not my cup of tea. My primary reason for this is that I see music festivals like Taste of Chicago, a chance to try samples of a bunch of different food from restaurants but not getting the whole meal. Festivals are great for people who may not have the chance to see a lot of shows in the course of a year. In one fell swoop you can see dozens of bands that would normally take dozens of nights to see individually. I get it. That said, I do make rare exceptions and today is one of them. I'm waiving my 'no festival' rule to see the reunited Jesus Lizard. Some of you know (and love) The Jesus Lizard and some of you don't, hopefully this will satisfy both parties.
I'll admit it, Pure, the first Jesus Lizard EP didn't do much for me. Maybe it was the drum machine? But man, oh man, their debut album Head got my attention. The addition of a live drummer to an already volatile mix completed the band. Circa Goat (their second album) I got to see my first JL live show. They opened with "Seasick" and approximately ten seconds into the show, David Yow had removed his shirt and dove into the crowd.
There is an intensity to the live JL experience I've seen in few other artists, Iggy Pop comes to mind. Few have seen the band live and not come away with a healthy respect or outright love of the band. There weren't many acts in the 1990's with as much of a reputation as a can't-miss live show. What was overlooked about them was the sonic quality of their records. With their (then) pal Steve Albini as engineer, they made incredibly taut, blistering records for legendary Chicago indie label Touch & Go. It's hard to imagine the immediacy of "Fly On The Wall" or the raw intensity of "Glamorous" without Steve Albini manning the mixing board. The pairing of Steve and the band was very complimentary, until the major labels came a calling. Albini's disdain for major labels was widely known, despite his taking money from them to record the likes of Nirvana and Bush in the 90's. The band tried in vain to come up with a one-off major label deal that would make them they money they were asking to take that plunge. An opportunity finally arose for the band to release a live album on a Warner Bros. subsidiary, which was enough to upset Albini, who declined to work with them again. The band then signed with Capitol Records, releasing Shot, their first record without Albini engineering. While not as raw or nasty as the Albini-era, the songs were decent, the sound pristine and for the first time ever, there was some tuneful singing on a Jesus Lizard record, check out the choruses on "Trephination". After Shot, drummer Mac McNeilly left to be with his family and was replaced by Jim Kimball. All due repsect to Kimball, who's a great player, the band never quite gelled as well as with Mac. The band amicably parted company in the late 1990's and went four separate ways. One of the great Chicago live bands was history.
There was an attempt made to reunite the band for a European festival last year but it fell through. When they discovered there was mutual interest among all four original members to reconvene, it was a matter of finding the right stage, which brings us to this weekend's Chicago reunion at Pitchfork Festival, their first Chicago gig in 11 years. And there also seems to be a thaw in the relations between Albini and the Lizard as Albini will be remastering the Touch & Go albums he recorded with the band. Don't you love a happy ending? I can't wait. See some of you tonight at Union Park.
So yes, I retired The Unheard Music. Fret not though, this (predominantly) Friday feature will be similar in spirit and allows me to spotlight all kinds of music, not just obscure material and by doing that, it will appeal to more people. And Crucial Music is a working title, I have my marketing staff testing it with focus groups, your input is welcome too. A work in progress, as they say.
I had a bunch of cool jobs in high school. As soon as I could drive, I got a delivery job working for Relcon, a company who specialized in relocating people and placing them in apartments. They published an apartment guide (which I would later be a photographer for) which was a catalog of Chicagoland apartments that I delivered to a TON of locations, primarily convenience stores, motels and gas stations. It was great job, because I could drive around, smoke cigarettes and listen to music all day long and get paid for it. The job would also give me an intimate familiarity with Chicago streets, which would pay off for me later in life. One Saturday in 1985, I stopped by my friend Jeff's house, I was bored with all my cassettes, I needed new blood to listen to on my five hour delivery route. Without hesitation, Jeff handed me Lloyd Cole & The Commotions' Rattlesnakes album. It changed my life.
From the opening notes of "Perfect Skin" I was drawn into Lloyd's world, it was place of urbane sophistication and hyper-literate lyrics. It was the only thing I listened to for five hours. What cultural references I didn't get, I made a point of researching or asking the smarter kids in class. It was like a ticket to a secret world. Here was a guy ten years my senior living the life I wanted to live, a bohemian existence in Europe populated by women doing the New York Times Crossword whilst waiting for the train smoking Gitanes; witness "Charlotte Street". Their sophomore effort Easy Pieces was drenched in American soul, which further drew me in. "Brand New Friend" was the lead single but beyond that was great depth and lyric detail that was reminiscent of that Bob Dylan guy I had heard of but knew little of his craft. The type of story songs I associated with Lloyd were actually Lloyd showing his debt to Bob's songcraft. I may have been the only person introduced to Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen by a Brit, schooled in Glasgow. The third Commotions album was their least effort but still a substantial record. References to then-current pop-culture "Sean Penn Blues" and Cocaine abuse "My Bag" abounded. Lloyd pre-saged the whole tattoo trend of the 90's by a few years in "Jennifer She Said" about the perils of inking a lover's name on your skin.
Then after an all-too-brief flash on the fickle British pop scene, the Commotions split up. My transition from high school to college left me with a smoking habit, a love of vodka and a defunct band. I was lost. All I had left was a Commotions B-Side "Love Your Wife". What was to become of my literary/musical hero? Find out next week.
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