Top 26 albums of 2007

Yeah, fuck you. I thought I had 25, which is already too fucking many, and then I realized I miscounted. I'll make sure I use an abacus for 2008. Here's the list, complete with audio links, which can be used to verify that, in fact, I probably have a bad list. Apologies to Panda Bear, LCD Soundsystem, and all other artists with amazing albums that I didn't fully digest because I was too busy trying to beat "The Lion King" on Sega Genesis [1].

-----------------------------------

26. The Federation - It's Whateva




The Federation - "Bang Bang" (featuring a shitload of other people)

Between this and the new Turf Talk record, I really thought there was a chance people outside of California would figure out how dope Rick Rock is. I mean, the man produced no less than 25 absolute bangers this year, and yet, he's still stuck in the Hyphy ghetto. Now, granted, this album should've came out a year ago, and "I Wear My Stunna Glasses at Night" should've been the lead single. But, things happen, and regardless of what obstacles appear before them, the Federation continue to go harder before noon than most people do all day. A point was deducted for a Snoop Dogg cameo, but overall, still a hell of a way to spend an afternoon. Yadadamean??

-----------------------------------

25. St. Vincent - Marry Me




St. Vincent - "Jesus Saves, I Spend"

For the first time since 1997, the best record by a female artist isn't affiliated with Destiny's Child. Bring the hate in '08 Beyonce!!

-----------------------------------

24. Los Campesinos - Sticking Fingers Into Sockets




Los Campesinos! - "You! Me! Dancing!"

This year's biggest instance of me drinking Pitchfork hype Kool-Aid is my fondness for the debut EP from the Welsh collective endless Los Campesinos. If I were insecure, I'd say that it was dirty pool of them to cover one of the greatest Pavement songs ever, but as a dashing figure that cuts a confident stroke, I'll simply say that these six songs are fun to jump on the bed to.

-----------------------------------

23. Gruff Rhys - Candylion




Gruff Rhys - "Candylion"

While I was really anticipating the latest Super Furry Animals album (which delivered the dopeness, as per usual), I didn't invest too much thought into the second solo project by frontman Gruff Rhys, largely because his debut disc was sung entirely in Welsh. Now, while I enjoy gibberish as much as the next guy, the surrealist lyrics are a huge part of the SFA draw. Furthermore, the lazy American in me can never keep their names straight, and I always fear that I'm going to end up with an album by the guy that makes non-time signatured laptop drum-and-bass. Luckily, one hungover Saturday morning in Milwaukee, I was smitten enough with the construction paper cover art that I uncovered the second greatest moment in children's music of 2007. Gruff, if only you would've put this out in a year where Yo Gabba Gabba didn't have that title locked up.

-----------------------------------

22. Parts and Labor - Mapmaker




Parts & Labor - "Long Way Down"

The Jagjaguwar reign of terror continues. Unlike Bon Iver and Okkervil River, however, the Parts & Labor attack relies far more on delicately manipulated, treble-y distortion, and a pummeling arsenal of percussion. Fifteen year old Anthony would've fucking loved this record.

-----------------------------------

21. Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga




Spoon - "The Underdog"

In one of the nerdy music fantasies that I write in what may or may not be a Lisa Frank notebook, Britt Daniel tells me that the first song Spoon wrote for "Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga" was "The Underdog", and it happened right after Boise State stuck it to the Big 12 on New Years Day. At no time does anyone bring up that by virtue of being from Austin, Texas, Spoon probably LIKES Big 12 football.

-----------------------------------

20. M.I.A. - Kala





M.I.A. - "XR2"

Dear Fuckstick that ripped this album for me to download,

You somehow forgot to include "Paper Planes". I've had one less song than everyone else for six months. Due to the staggering amount of music I heard this year, I can't always remember what songs are named, and thus, never realized that I was missing track 11 (which, incidentally, is one of the best on the album). You really, really fucked up here. Like, I just found this out five minutes ago. Dick. I even hold you responsible for the absence of the July re-examination of the Clash catalog, which surely would've occurred after hearing the sample. You're a fucking jerk.

Love,
Stunt.

-----------------------------------

19. Black Lips - Good Bad Not Evil




Black Lips - "Bad Kids"

There's about 500 reviews of this joint that inevitably draw a comparison to the Nuggets Box Set. God forbid the lazy sods actually suggest specifically checking out bands like The Sonics or the 13th Floor Elevators, or the Count Five. No, they'd rather make sweeping, obvious generalizations, and spend the time saved typing the phrase "Radiohead Pricing Model" a couple million more times. So, uh, check out the Sonics... or something.

-----------------------------------

18. UGK - Underground Kingz




UGK - "Quit Hatin' the South" (w/ Willie D)

A fitting epitaph to a legendary musician. R.I.P. Pimp C.

-----------------------------------

17. Holy Fuck - LP




Holy Fuck - "Milk Shake"

They have two drummers. Kick yourself in the nuts if you don't have this.

-----------------------------------

16. White Williams - Smoke





White Williams - "Route To Palm"

Remember when MTV sounded like this?? I do. In spite of the hair cuts, new wave was pretty fucking awesome.

-----------------------------------

15. Of Montreal - Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer?





Of Montreal - "She's a Rejector"

Since I first heard "Blood on the Tracks", I think I've been unconsciously hoarding divorce albums so that way I've got a hefty pile for when my first wife leaves me. In the meantime, I can listen to the amazing keyboard layers on this one, and pretend it's optimistic. I suppose it's sonically logical that Outback Steakhouse and T-Mobile spun these into odes to consumerism. Well played, Madison Avenue. Well... Played...

*begins slow clap*

-----------------------------------

14. Arcade Fire - Neon Bible





Arcade Fire - "Windowsill"

I downloaded this right after it came out, thought that a sequencing job with "Black Mirror" batting leadoff was downright retarded, and then filed it away. THEN I SAW THIS:



So, uh, yeah, I guess I was a little prematurely dismissive. I still stand by my problems with the tracklisting, but the last 60% of it is phenomenal, and you can't go wrong with a healthy Springsteen fetish.

-----------------------------------

13. Dizzee Rascal - Maths + English





Dizzee Rascal - "Sirens"

How can this not be available in America??? This shit is grimy as fuck (no pun intended). The storytelling really leaps through the speakers, the production is devastating, and the ethnocentrist in me just likes to giggle when a guy this dangerous says "trousers".

-----------------------------------

12. Dan Deacon - Spiderman of the Rings





Dan Deacon - "Wham City"

Song of the decade.

-----------------------------------

11. Menomena - Friend Or Foe




Menomena - "Muscle 'n Flo"

If I told you about a band with a tricky-to-pronounce name, a penchant for adding trombone flourishes, and a loosely defined lineup where members trade instruments between songs, you would probably assume this band was really pretentious and terrible to listen to. In this case, you'd be wrong, but it's good that you have those instincts. I listen to a lot of weird fucking bullshit. One can't be too careful these days.

-----------------------------------

10. Okkervil River - The Stage Names




Okkervil River - "Unless It's Kicks"

Will Sheff is probably the best lyricist in modern rock. Which makes it all the more embarrassing that I can't get over how much I love the tambourine. Furthermore, these guys could teach Arcade Fire a thing or two about how to sequence an album. Every song is great except for one, and even that lands in the perfect place to put the dud. Another one of Jagjaguwar's flagship artists to release something staggering in 2007. Look for Bon Iver to keep the streak alive in February.

-----------------------------------

9. Justice - †




Justice - "DVNO"

Listen up Frenchy, I'm already a shitty enough driver as it is. Please refrain from making shit like this, compelling me to play drums on the wheel, pump the gas pedal along with the bass parts, and falsetto sing at the top of my lungs like an Ian Van Dahl collaborator.

-----------------------------------

8. Lil Wayne - The Drought 3




Lil Wayne - "Ride 4 My Niggas"

James Brown 2k7. Weezy F. Baby is the hardest working man in show business, and if he wants to spend his leisure time sippin' syrup, then I think it's his prerogative. As long as he keeps beasting over the best production bad rappers can buy, I don't care if Birdman uses his tongue as a bidet. And for the record, when I was five, my favorite movie was the Gremlins as well.

-----------------------------------

7. Radiohead - In Rainbows




Radiohead - "Reckoner"

This could've sounded like Foghat, and it still would've been revolutionary, for unifying the best five ideas about digital music commerce, and presenting them to the unwashed masses. Lucky for us, they put as much work into the music as they did into the packaging (or lack thereof). Plus, that 45 second wait before the guitar kicks in on track one proves that underneath all the misanthropy and isolation, they've still got a sense of humor.

-----------------------------------

6. The National - Boxer




The National - "Fake Empire"

Between this and Tay Zonday, baritone vocals were back in a big way in 2007. Also, probably the best drum sound I've heard on an album in five years. Did they rent the castle "When the Levee Breaks" was recording in or something??

-----------------------------------

5. Battles - Mirrored




Battles - "Tonto"

The exception that proves the rule. Four virtuosos beating the piss out of their instruments, and the result is something amazing. These guys get gold stars for making a dense, challenging tapestry, when lesser folks would've ended up sounding like Emerson, Lake, and Palmer (Yuck!).

-----------------------------------

4. Animal Collective - Strawberry Jam




Animal Collective - "Unsolved Mysteries"

For a nice change of pace, the Collective decided to actually record a whole album of songs, instead of one or two surrounded by a bunch of off-key experimentation. It paid off, and made me contemplate buying stock in the Salvia industry. Viva la psychedelics!!

-----------------------------------

3. El-P - I'll Sleep When You're Dead





El-P - "The Overly Dramatic Truth"

El Producto does it again. Dude really lets his Phillip K. Dick flag fly on this shit. Also notable for a Trent Reznor appearance that doesn't suck. Shame he needed somebody else to drag it out of him, but it was comforting all the same.

-----------------------------------

2. Jens Lekman Night Falls Over Kortadela





Jens Lekman - "A Postcard to Nina"

I spent the better part of three months trying to figure out whether I liked this damn thing or not. It's like a Burt Bacharach album, but the narratives are all cracked in this really surreal, awkwardly honest manner. The production is unbelievably warm considering the digital nature of it's construction. It definitely grows on you, even if wins the Morrissey, "I Roll my Car Windows Up when I'm Listening to this in Dense Traffic" award.

-----------------------------------

1. Caribou - Andorra




Caribou - "Sandy"

In a year where the beating hearts behind electronic records experienced a staggeringly increased profile, it seems fitting that the album of the year would be made by an IDM veteran getting his Hawkwind on. Deftly merging the strengths of Boards of Canada and the Soft Boys, "Andorra" is a singular achievement that reaches beyond the limitations of either aspect of it's source material. Flawless.

---------------------------

[1] EDIT- 2:41 PM, December 18th, 2007

I would just like the record to reflect that this post (footnote excluded) was worked on over the course of the week, and finalized 10:30ish on the 17th of December. Had I known that Pitchfork was going to name those two albums as their top two of the year, I would've chosen others for my snarky excuse to pound Sega Genesis into the conversation. The last thing I would ever do, as a self-respecting egomaniac, would be draw attention to another list, and use a cavalier comment to suggest that THEY, in fact, have a better list than me. That, like, breaks all the hipster rules, and stuff.

Kindred Spirits

According to a handful of online shallow media outlets, no-talent junkie Scott Weiland got another DUI. While I normally wouldn't give a shit about him one way or the other, largely since both his new and old bands suck, I was pleasantly surprised to see that he actually has a pretty sleazy beard.




Tallying this alongside Michael Jackson's (post-kiddie diddling) foray into bearded bliss, this officially makes two famous musicians that I run train on in the face carpet department.



























Eric Cartman, you are officially in my sights. Consider yourself warned.

















-----------------------


In other news, this song rules, but I probably wasn't going to get around to writing about it. Thus, it makes a perfect addition to this "not really a blog entry" blog entry. It's good enough that you will totally[1] end up praying for another celebrity venture into bad bearding[2], simply to incite me into writing again.






Richard and Linda Thompson - "I Want to See the Bright Lights Tonight"




-------------------------


[1] Or is it totes? Are blogs supposed to say totes exclusively now?? Nobody tells me anything
[2] I feel like there's an episode of "Sliders" where an 8-bit video game called "Bad Beardin'" sweeps the nation. Acclaim is probably involved.

Motherfucker couldn't be Muslim...

...because the wife makes him eat pork

----------------------------------

Since popular music's success rate typically sits beneath even Eli Manning's completion percentage, I've spent the better part of my life scouring ultra-nerdy periodicals in search of the next great musical plateau. 14 year old Anthony broke the seal discovering Pavement via a Rolling Stone record guide , but there's been hundreds of musically promiscuous endeavors since that have hinged on poring over the hyperbolic musings of some other nerd on the other end of the world. A particularly strong phase was my Freshman year of college, when my homepage was the NME. In hindsight, 2001 (especially to those Limey fucks) will always be thought of as the year of the "The" bands. The Strokes, The Hives, The White Stripes, and a myriad of also-rans[1] that decided rock music should be frozen in an era where you could trace the veins on your cock through your leather pants. At the time, though, their coverage was equally devoted to another obsession: UK Garage.

After innumerable evenings spent waging war with my cruel mistress Icehouse, I'd fire up Audiogalaxy[2] and gorge my hard drive with every skittishly-drum programmed ode to gun violence I could get my hand on. Dizzee Rascal and Ms. Dynamite were in constant rotation (fuck it, I'll link a second single to that Ms. Dynamite album. She had tracks for days), and I'm pretty confident that I could name at least five members of So Solid Crew. Then, inevitably, came "The Elvis Moment": Original Pirate Material. Mike Skinner, under the guise of "The Streets", released one of the best albums of 2002, a concept album about being young and intoxicated in Britain. It had the signature slang and rhythms of Garage, but there was an element of the class consciousness and humor prevalent in prior waves of British Youth music (The Specials, The Kinks, Blur). Needless to say, it blew the fuck up there, and sold enough records here to be namedropped by pretentious quasi-intellectuals that obsessively follow that sort of thing.

-------------------------

Six years later, and Garage is more or less a historical footnote. So Solid Crew disintegrated, the second Ms. Dynamite album blew, and with the exception of Dizzee Rascal and Wiley, most of the core artists fizzled out (the last Kano record was fucking abysmal). Skinner, however, transcended the genre, dropping two more stellar records, and fleshing out his sound beyond the scene that birthed him. Thus, when news leaked of a new Streets single in advance of album four, my curiosity was piqued. Since post-production and mastering was slated to take the project up until early '08, it made sense for the man to keep product in the pipeline by putting out a one-off single. What didn't make sense was making that single a cover of "Your Song", by Elton John.



The Streets - "Your Song"


Part of the pretty disasterous Radio One Covers record (Klaxons covering "No Diggity", anyone???), I'd really like to dismiss this, particularly since Elton John sort of blows. However, I find myself strangely compelled to it. There's definitely a melodramatic element to it that a moody fuck like me would be drawn to, but that seemed too basic to be the draw. And while the ballads he had written in the past also tended to linger in one's head ("Dry Your Eyes" and "Never Went to Church" come to mind), those focused more on the poetic and narrative elements than his wavering, trebly voice. Then it fucking hit me.



THE SHIT SOUNDS LIKE "RAINBOW CONNECTION"!!!!!!!

I played the fuck out of the Muppet Movie when I was a kid. The whole "I sing not because I'm skilled at it, but because my soul demands it of me" shit that Kermit has done for the better part of 40 years. Fozzie Bear, ever the sad clown. And Statler and Waldorf clearly bear some sort of profound emotional damage. Those Muppets are profound, complicated souls and I identify with this. Man, I goddamn love the fucking Muppets. A fuckload of classic Muppetry after the jump.

------------------------------------

Bonus Beats



Johnny Cash and Miss Piggy - "Jackson"



Kermit the Frog - "Once in a Lifetime" (Talking Heads cover)



The Muppets - "Why Can't We Be Friends" (War cover/TRIBUTE TO THE FRENCH REVOLUTION!!)



Johnny Cash (featuring the Muppets) - "Ghostriders in the Sky"



The Muppets - "In the Navy" (Village People cover)



Floyd (from Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem) - "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" (Beatles cover)



Gonzo - "Act Naturally" (Beatles cover/Buck Owens cover)



Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem - "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" (Paul Simon cover)



R.E.M. (featuring the Muppets) - "Furry Happy Monsters"



Animal and Buddy Rich having a Drum Competition



Gonzo (featuring the Chickens)- "Workin at the Car Wash Blues" (Jim Croce cover)



Dizzy Gillespie and the Muppets - St. Louis Blues

--------------------------------------------

[1]The Datsuns anyone?
[2]Audiogalaxy went hard as fuck. Using Limewire was like wearing a tech vest to a house party. Why don't you just carve the word "toolbox" into your forehead.

...we tend to do that

[1]

Once every so often, the constant hyperbole I spew ends up actually being vindicated by an event so phenomenal that my peers forget about the rather shoddy reliability of my opinion. Not that my taste is bad, in fact, quite the contrary. However, I tend to get excited about things so far onto the fringes of acceptable society, that when people finally take the plunge, there's sort of a vacuum of enthusiasm leaving the room, along with my wavering credibility (Dan Deacon, anyone?). Sunday, however, was one such day where the heavens smiled upon those daring enough to listen, and they heard the voice of God, projected through pennywhistles and ten dollar organs.

Man Man rocked everyone in a manner I didn't think could happen to me at this jaded point in my existence. I would say it was the greatest thing I've ever seen. Better than when Mudhoney played for 75 people in Green Bay, better than that time I was walking with Sarah and saw that guy fall out of a tree, better than when I saw "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" the day it came out in theatres at Andy Reiff's first grade birthday party. Furthermore, it was a uniter, not a divider. Modest Mouse (the headliner) brought a pretty diverse crowd (in the good, and bad ways), and to thoroughly astound that many people is a feat for the ages. Their supreme dominance is pretty much summed up by the following exchange with Ted, immediately following the set, right outside of the bathroom.

"Dude, that was the greatest fucking thing I've ever seen. I think you blew my mind."
"yeah... we tend to do that."

The craziest thing is, the entirety of their skillset seems to be the aforementioned mindblowing. Their MySpace is a series of pencil drawings and random clip art, their website is a mere list of tourdates, and their Wikipedia entry is rather useless. Aside of forced exposure from a quasi-hipster douchebag like myself, I can't even imagine a scenario where someone would run into this. In a way, it's almost better that way. There's an old Iggy Pop interview where he discusses how he's trying to make himself obsolete. Like, if people take his lead, and put enough emotion and expressiveness into their own art, then he could stop slicing himself open, and rubbing peanut butter on his naked ass, and become a fucking plumber. But they won't, so he can't. It's like, rather than preach to the converted, Man Man just go out and wreck house, trying to bash skulls towards epiphany, night after night. It's rather staggering.




[1] Apparently, there's this acid headed Korean showwith a paragraph long title, two words of which are "Man Man", and it's posted all over YouTube. It's sort of like "Figure It Out", but instead of waiting for Lori Beth Denberg to have a mixed ethnicity child with the cokehead from Nick Arcade, you see Korean celebrities make sexual innuendo laden comments back and forth under the pretense of ripping off Family Feud. I chose this particular clip, not only because it's about man boobs, but also because you can faintly hear "Little Green Bag" by George Baker in the background, and that song is fucking amazing.

------------------------------------------------------

Below, an assortment for fans new and old. First up, a cover of the old folk song "Little Boxes", performed by Man Man, and aired this season on "Weeds" (which is bomb, obviously). Pretty much the entire lineup of performers from seasons two and three were amazing (Decemberists and Devendra Banhart fucking nailed it), but it's doubly pleasing to hear the old lyrics damning suburbia coming from a band that would probably scare the shit out of your parents. Donovan? Not so much. After that, is a cover of an old Etta James song that the Faces used to play all the time. Finally, a live rendition of their single from the last album. It's not exactly representative of what's happening at their shows right now (which is being used as an opportunity to show off new material), but it's still dope nonetheless.



Man Man - Little Boxes (Weeds Theme/Malvina Reynolds Cover)



Man Man - I Would Rather Go Blind (Etta James Cover)



Man Man - Van Helsing Jukebox (live)

Hut One, Hut Two, Hut Three, HUT!!!!!

I've got about three partial posts going (one of which is devoted to the staggeringly dope weekend/religious experience from Madison and Milwaukee), but I would be remiss if I were to let the 13th of November pass without a brief post about Russell Jones, better known as the Ol' Dirty Bastard.

As a late arrival to hip-hop, most of my musical memories from childhood involve either long-haired vulgarity (Guns N Roses, Metallica), designed to complement the ever-widening holes in my elementary school jeans; or bong-water soaked cassette tapes I stole from my dad and later played until I'd memorized each and every nuance.

Black music came to me eventually (the floodgates obviously exploded, as anyone unfortunate enough to witness a drunken tirade of mine about "The Payback" can tell you), but early exposure came more insidiously. I remember seeing Ghostface brushing roaches out the cereal box[1], learning from Left Eye what a rubber looked like, and finding out that the raw shit is always on public access[2]. Most importantly, though, I remember every O.D.B. publicity stunt.

I had seen "Da Mystery of Chessboxin" on public access before, but Wu-Tang hype was hard as fuck to figure out as an 11-year old white kid. I knew there was definitely some shit going on, but without any prior exploration in that direction, it would take another 7 years before I could really (w)rap my head around East-Coast hip hop. What I could figure out instantly, though, was O.D.B.'s insatiable thirst for attention. I didn't know shit about how welfare worked, or why most white people bitched about it all the time, but I knew damn well that Dirty cashing a welfare check in a limo was funny as fuck, as proven by the relative worthlessness of people angered by the stunt. It was like, everything that dude did was put into such a perfect set of surroundings that you got to observe how a cornucopia of people responded, and then pick your allegiances accordingly. I didn't know if Wu-Tang deserved "Best Rap Artist" at the Grammy's,but I knew that if anyone was boring enough to deserve their acceptance speech crashed, it was Shawn Colvin. Furthermore, when I finally appreciated rap enough to delve into his catalog, you could tell that he left everything he had out there, with verses as reckless as he was. Motherfucker was like the black Iggy Pop.

I had about a year and a half of being a full-fledged Wu-Tang Stan under my belt before dude passed away (on my sister's 20th birthday, actually, which turned the party into a bizarre wake/celebration that unsettled more than a few). I thought about the great records he had made, and the energy he brought to the clan, and what a shame that he couldn't pull it around after he got out of jail. The main thing I thought of, though, was that I would have been just as impacted ten years prior, when I was sitting on the couch, seeing Dirty wild the fuck out in public. Musicians die all the time, often from circumstances that don't affect your average member of the private sector. While we miss the art, and empathize with the families, none of us really think "boy, it's a shame I never got a chance to be flipped off by Kurt Cobain", at least beyond some sort of People Magazine impulse. Dirty didn't have that, though. He was like that friend everyone has, that your mom hates. She's always thought he was the reason you smoked dope, or blew off your homework, or talked back in high school; and often she was right. But he was also the guy that was part of all your favorite stories, or would offer you the last beer in his fridge. Use today not just to remember Dirty; his records, his stories. Use it to contemplate just how willing you are to act like the man every now and again. It's a sad fate to slide through life looking like Shawn Colvin.


[1]The first musical moment ever to make me cry
[2]Shouts to "Video Mix"

----------------------------------------------------------------
Ol' Dirty Bastard - Shimmy Shimmy Ya



Wu Tang Clan - Da Mystery of Chessboxin'

Not the first time the football team ran train on her...

-----------------------------------------

Around 1:15 a.m. on Sunday, I suffered a similar degree of spine-crushing humiliation when, in the midst of a self-aggrandizing tirade about my superlative jukebox picks, the speakers began to blare "Danger Zone", the Kenny Loggins sonic abortion from the "Top Gun" soundtrack. Apparently, the random mix CD containing my third to last pick had been replaced, but the corresponding card had not. Now, if I weren't a douchebag, it would amount to a mild degree of frustration, but since I spent the entirety of every other pick (14 songs!!) verbally fellating myself, making sure every fucktard on a bar stool knew who was responsible for the night's soundtrack, it was a special kind of humiliation when Kenny Loggins began to do what Kenny Loggins does (i.e., suck dick). It was like if Shawn Michaels walked out to the ring, and this music started playing. I'm just going to assume that had this played in it's rightful spot, I would've been involved in an orgy of some sort. Fucking Kenny Loggins.

Daniel the Irish Elevator Inspector

No matter where I end up on my travels, one of the things I'll miss most about the Midwest is meeting people who could be the subject of a Tom Waits song. I was laying on the couch at work, reading Howard Zinn, when interruped by a knock at the front door. I unlocked it and spoke to the man, who informed me he was here for the annual elevator inspection. Apparently, I have the intellect of an inbred farm hand, because I didn't even know elevator inspector was an occupation.

Mrs. Bucci, third grade teacher/figurehead of Career Day, consider your mail bomb en route.

Anyhoo, pleasantries, formalities, banter, and souffle recipes were exchanged, and the inspector, Daniel, began to perform his duties, while intermittently engaging in a sort of self-depracating informative monologue. Apparently, he was once an elevator repairman, and after a long, storied career, he hung up his hat (helmet? mask? I still don't know shit about elevators), and retired... at least, retired for a spell; until his wife's retirement rolled around, and he realized that spending all day together would surely lead to a manslaughter charge. My Grandfather did the same thing, but instead of becoming an elevator inspector, he bought a full set of encyclopedias from a door-to-door sales man, locked himself in his study, and read each volume for 8 hours a day until he was a pretentious know-it-all like his grandson (though in his case, it was at least certified by the good people at Britannica).



After trying out a few of his time-tested one-liners on me ("I always say my retirement was like a pregnancy... IT ONLY LASTED NINE MONTHS" *guffaw, chortle, snort, hiccup*) he explained his elevator findings to me, the surrogate authority figure. Apparently, the shelving that was installed into the ancient manual elevator wasn't up to code. However, "Jerry let you pass last year, so apparently it didn't bother him too much. I don't want to be that guy, and I'm sure you don't want me to be that guy, so just sign here."

[shakespeare]Ah, sweet apathy, oft has your charmed glance given thy erections of sloth, and smirks of whimsy.[/shakespeare]

Once my signature was procured, I attempted to volley with my only piece of elevator-centric banter ("doesn't the Zuelke Building downtown still have manual elevators... WITH OPERATORS!") only to be rebuffed ("ah, a common misconception. actually, they installed electrical motors two years ago, but left the original plating, so as to retain the vintage appearance. Inspected them last week, as a matter of fact.") Suffice to say, my game was weak.

I thanked him for letting us slide on the shelving (presumably a common occurrance, his only alternative to militant, rule-abiding fascism), and waved as he walked to his Chrysler Concord, envisioning a elevator inspectors meeting in some Ramada banquet room, where he and Jerry laugh over bourbon, thinking about the sleepy-eyed post-grad that tried in vain to talk elevators. And beating their wives.

-------------------------------------------

In honor of our Irish friend, here's some jams by the Pogues.



The Pogues - Body of an American

A Pogues B-Side from the golden era ("Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash", ya heard?), now notable for being the song from the Wire they play every time they have an Irish Funeral for a cop (i.e., get falling down hammered after dude gets capped)




The Pogues - Sally Maclennane

If you don't like this song, your St. Patrick's Day Privileges are revoked. Oh, and thanks to a Catholic holy day on Monday the 17th of March, the Church has invoked their authority to move St. Patrick's day for the first time since 1940, to the far more alcohol coma-friendly Saturday March 15th. Get Familiar, Seamus

EDIT: Apparently, only the actual holy St. Patrick's Day changes, the secular calendar always celebrates on the 17th. It's a shame Brent pointed this out, because it really takes the sting out of "Get Familiar, Seamus". Alas, I'll have to look for a future post in which I can cram a traditional Irish name for no reason.
*tear drops down cheek*



-------------------------------------------

Bonus Beat: Bruce Springsteen, Live in '85, Performing a Phenomenal Version of "The River". Only tangentially related (nobody speaks to the common man like "The Boss"), but as appropriate a place to stick this as any. Plus, sadly, many of you have yet to be converted. Peep Game.

Not Red Dot, Feather!

As many of you know, my stop-gap occupation at the moment consists of supervising the handicapped through various odd jobs. Due to the nature of the company that owns me (No Chicken George), there's a handful of other ventures operating under the same umbrella that occasionally need to borrow labor from one of the other ventures, in order to reach their objectives. None of the above explanation is terribly interesting, but it's also helpful to aid one in understanding just how I spent Monday's work day playing cribbage and eating pizza at "The Center". "The Center" is kind of like "The Max", from Saved by the Bell, except for Zach Morris and Kelly Kapowski have been replaced by about two dozen mentally ill people from Appleton, Wisconsin. So I'm stumbling through my first day as social director for the deranged, getting acclimated to my surroundings, and I strike up a conversation with one of the members, a 6'4" Indian guy I'll call "Godfrey". Motherfucker was straight out of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest", wearing a Canadian Tuxedo that really set off his aviator sunglasses and his neck brace, presumably making me, the mouthy honky, Jack Nicholson. Seeming relatively funny, and not particularly dangerous, I gravitate to the man, and accept graciously when he challenges me to a game of cribbage. Hours pass, laughs are had, chips are eaten, iced tea is drank. As the day ends, one of the other members asks why he wasn't on the bus today.

Godfrey: "I ran out of passes."
Random: "Oh, did you forget to call in for new ones two days in advance?"
Godfrey: "Nope, called in on Thursday."
Random: "Then why weren't you on the bus?"
Godfrey: "No mail delivery today. Columbus Day. (Takes long drink of coffee). I just keep getting fucked by that guy. (Walks out door)."

-------------------------------------------------

That anecdote was brought to you by the Cleveland Indians, your future American League Champions.

To justify you all reading my long awaited return blog post, here's a comedy bit from Doug Benson, a man far more hilarious than I.

Perfect Imperfections not Penned by Cee-Lo Green

*This post isn't funny, and it's been too long since my last one, so this picture hopefully reaches my joke quota*



The Modern Lovers - "I'm Straight"



The Modern Lovers - "Hospital"

Sadly, writing snide away messages will never be considered poetry. Since this closes off one opening of me becoming a bard, the only option I have left is the Leonard Cohen route, ever-sharpening words and phrases you come up with from your lofty tower, refining them until you eventually have a finished work, as notable for it's perfection as it is for being completed LONG after the intial inspiration has dissipated.

While the away messags are more than enough to give my ego a half-stock, there are moments that I wish I could be the Lou Reed-style benzedrine poet. Wide eyed and literal, notable for the feeling that jumps off the page, rather than the clever turns of phrase and diabolical vocabulary.

Now, beating a dead horse has long been a favorite pastime of mine. However, elaborately describing Lou Reed to the ten people that read this (and uncoincidentally, the only ten people I know that even know who Lou Reed is) would be self-defeating even for myself. Today, I turn a magnifying glass on a writer of similar style and quality, but lesser renown.

Jonathan Richman formed the Modern Lovers in 1973, recorded an album for John Cale, and then broke them up shortly thereafter. In 1976, when the flood of punk rock records also brought a few more artistically-leaning projects (Richard Hell and his ilk), Richman decided to cast his three-year old record into the mix.

Without making this post much longer, I guess what I'll say is amazing about Jonathan Richman product (this album in particular), is the space. I've always preferred British guitar players to American ones, due to their ability to pull back, and not inundate the listener with noise, simply as a means of showing technical proficiency. A Richman composition takes that framework, and then applies it to the narrative as well. The actual time-elapsement of a song is rarely any more than a particular moment, but there are glimpses into facts or tones that provide context. Chronologized and Kaleidoscopic are two words too pretensious to be linked by a hyphen, even by myself. However, they work in tandem better, and more inventively, when employed by Jonathan Richman than they do isolated in the hands of a lesser songwriter.

Last time I was this late, I had a back alley abortion

I was gonna get all slick and write about the newly finished 'Kast/UGK video, until I realized that Noz did it far better than I could. Just as well, I wasn't really in the mood to defend my poorly conceived "Adventures in Hollyhood" joke. However, I was halfway through uploading the Willie Hutch song that rocks the sample, so enjoy it as pennance for me being late to the game. I'll be back tomorrow with something that hasn't been done to death by the collective internet nerdosphere. Until then, stay practicin that dance that David Banner does during his cameo, sitting shotgun in Bun B's ride.

Mountain Goat-astic!!

The Mountain Goats - "No Children"



The Mountain Goats - Lion's Teeth

About three years ago, I was at a party having this really profound conversaion with this Jewish girl about music, largely centered around her having phenomenal taste, and me wanting to wear her reproductive organs as a ski mask. About thirty seconds before Bystol decided to cockblock me BY DENYING THE HOLOCAUST, she mentioned the Mountain Goats, and how I should check them out. I made a mental note of this that eventually drifted into the crowded pasture where my other dormant ideas go to wander, and forgot until I read about Aesop Rock's upcoming Mountain Goats collaboration. This then lofted the idea into the stratosphere of things I need to actually follow up on (past due notices, poopy pants, burning toast, et cetera). Finally, I was able to digest it all, and it lived up to all of the swastika-cular hype that Bystol drove it to so many moons ago.

If a comparison was absolutely necessary, I'd say there's a little Elliot Smith, some Jeff Mangum, and more than a passing similarity to
every basement cassette recording Lou Barlow ever made. These are all good things, however, as are the hyper literate lyrics, the recent trend towards stringed accompaniment, and the fact that none of the songs mean anything. Except the album where they mean everything. And finally, he has an amazing blog, where he advocates, among other things, new recordings from Guns N Roses, ITunes alternating between fantastic and dogshit, and the year in metal. I'd call him a rennaissance man, but I fear that the connotations of that phrase have shifted in years past. Thus, I will call him, simply the man.

...Now with 50% More Self-Serving Ego!!

Dead Rabbit - Out of our Heads

About a week ago, I was ravaging the interweb looking for a set of Tapes 'N Tapes demos that I wanted mainly because I knew far dumber people that had them, and I was jealous. About an hour in, foaming at the mouth over my failure, I stumbled into a blog that mentioned the Tapes, but only as a reference point for a band that they deemed vastly superior. While I refuse to rank the two (in part, because I was late to the party, and wouldn't want to lose credibility if, in fact, Dead Rabbit ARE superior), I was quite impressed with the music (albeit stymied by their refusal to mention ANYWHERE where I can buy the album).

This is where you faithful readers come in. Buy it at Trash Bar tomorrow, when they play from 8-9 with an open bar! And as for you 15 other readers, wondering what you have to gain from reading a post that is essentially a love letter to Ryan in the hopes that I can get my mitts on this CD, just consider yourselves lucky to find out about this band now, from me, and not later, out of distorted speakers at the Buckle. Every song on their MySpace is dope, and it's nice to hear a band with a slight vibe. Psychedelic Furs vibe.

[fist thrust into air] John Hughes Movies Forever [/fist thrust into air]

-----------------------------------

In other news, I plunged deeply into the Matrix on Saturday, acquiring posh luxury box tickets for the Brewers game, and getting into a VIP bar in left field. This is only noteworthy because the Maitre D of said establishment... HAD A HOOK HAND!!!!!!!!!!!!
While I value my membership in the proletariat, I would totally sell out, yuppify, and vote republican if I could see a sharp upswing in day-to-day hook-handed encounters.

Engine, Engine, No. 9...

Neutral Milk Hotel - "Engine"

Gibberish is underrated. If you scour the reviews section of Amazon, amongst other places, it's tough not to be inundated with sour-grapes hack music critics that deny any set of lyrics not going from point "A" to point "B" in the strightforward manner advocated by grandmothers, Republicans, and ESL students alike.

Nonsense can be a gorgeous phenomenon; just ask Lewis Carroll, killa cam, or anyone that has ever taken mushrooms. Jeff Mangum, the driving force behind Psychedelic revivalists Neutral Milk Hotel, is another staunch advocate of the compelling power of acid-headed gobbledygook.

Currently a recluse in the mode of Brian Wilson (circa-1980) or Sly Stone (until he re-emerged with that shitty blonde mohawk), Mangum spent most of the 1990's releasing groundbreaking experimental recordings as a member of the Elephant6 Collective, culminating in the 1998 landmark recording "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea". While the bare emotional content and bat-shit crazy lyrics ultimately pushed dude off the deep-end, he did leave us one last reminder of his unparalleled talent: 1998 b-side "Engine".

Much like Van Morrison's work in the late 60's and early 70's, Mangum's voice exists as a conduit for lyrics channeled from a place unknown to singer and listener alike. Attempting to transcribe these words devoid of sonic context would make them look ridiculous, bold poetic structure aside. In execution, however, the beauty is stark and phenomenal.

While the place of Neutral Milk Hotel in the musical pantheon is up for serious debate (it's hard to pen a mushmouthed, lysergic concept album about Anne Frank and not open yourself up to some ridicule), they undoubtedly rank as one of the 90's most profoundly unique acts.[1]

[1] And using a saw as an instrument is fucking cool. Ask Armand Van Helden.

Covered Like a Jimmy Hat

Martha Wainwright - The Traitor (2005)



Leonard Cohen - The Traitor (1979)

One of the problems with learning the difference between your musical head and your musical ass is that as you develop a more sophisticated palette, sometimes you skeptically (and unfairly) dismiss otherwise worthwhile material due to sins committed by vastly inferior artists. [1]

For instance (unless you're my mother, you vote republican, or you're 10 years old), you realize that an all-covers bar musician is the lowest form of musicianship possible, far beneath even the toothless guy that plays the bucket in downtown Chicago and smokes metholated reburns. As the sensitive Abercrombie singer-songwriter, the Eagles t-shirt sporting deadbeat dad, or the "ironic" pop-punk cover band, each incarnation is still rooted in the idea that the only way to enjoy music is if you know it already. Obviously, all of these people deserve the business end of a Tyrannosaur phallus.

Sadly, though, due to the staggering number of atrocious covers (is linking to the Ataris even necessary???), many otherwise sophisticated listeners fail to explore the world of covers around the time they stop purchasing Greatest Hits compilations (yeah, there won't ever be a post here defending those vile products). As a result, tributes like 2006's "I'm Your Man" fall beneath their radar.

Designed to pay respects to Canadian troubador Leonard Cohen, "I'm Your Man" was a combination documentary/concert designed to show the dramatic scope of his influence across the music industry. From Jarvis Cocker and Rufus Wainwright, Nick Cave to Bono, the project brought out the kind of A-List names usually reserved for eulogies (Cohen, thankfully, remains among us).

One of the lesser known performers, Martha Wainwright (Rufus' sister) fittingly reinterpreted a more obscure track, 1979's examination of fate "The Traitor". Loosening the tempo from the standard meter-perfect rhythm Cohen is known for, Wainwright reconfigured the track as a Randy Newman-esque construct, propelled along sporadically by the performer's whim alone. This new-found slackness makes the protagonists climactic realization about fate all the more compelling. By the end, the listener's only question is if Martha's version of "The Traitor" has unseated Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" as the most profound of all Leonard Cohen reinterpretations.[2]




[1] Another problem is that sometimes, you struggle to separate the music that you're drawn to with the music that will best facilitate your goals. Trying to listen to the new Lil Boosie album while I typed this was fucking impossible.

[2] Yes, I realize Buckley's cover was actually a cover of John Cale's cover. Try harder.