Currently Listening

A glog about the ups and downs of the "album shuffle" function.
Van Dyke Parks-Song Cycles (1968) The majority of Van Dyke Parks career has been spent trying to chase the concept of America.  The culture, the musical styles, the icons…all of this fascinated Parks. He dedicated most of his work to discovering America and sharing his interpretation of it.  His first breakthrough was with the “most American band in existence”, The Beach Boys, during Brian Wilson’s SMiLE sessions. Wilson and Parks “teenage symphony to God” didn’t fully flourish for 37 years, but that experience led Parks to take on his own solo work: Song Cycles. Song Cycles rotates through the early American music experience, tackling bluegrass, ragtime, show tunes, vaudeville and more, and then demonstrating how they are all just pop. Like a musical Roy Lichtenstein, Parks was looking at what identified our culture, the disposable entertainments of the past, and refurbished them as a modern sound. This was America to Parks. Song Cycles was just the first in Parks long exploration of the American experience. His follow up, Discover America takes the concept even further, immortalizing icons like Jack Palance, FDR and Bing Crosby.  This nation is a never ending font of ideas to Parks, and still today he’s still examining it. 

Van Dyke Parks-Song Cycles (1968)

The majority of Van Dyke Parks career has been spent trying to chase the concept of America.  The culture, the musical styles, the icons…all of this fascinated Parks. He dedicated most of his work to discovering America and sharing his interpretation of it. 

His first breakthrough was with the “most American band in existence”, The Beach Boys, during Brian Wilson’s SMiLE sessions. Wilson and Parks “teenage symphony to God” didn’t fully flourish for 37 years, but that experience led Parks to take on his own solo work: Song Cycles.

Song Cycles rotates through the early American music experience, tackling bluegrass, ragtime, show tunes, vaudeville and more, and then demonstrating how they are all just pop. Like a musical Roy Lichtenstein, Parks was looking at what identified our culture, the disposable entertainments of the past, and refurbished them as a modern sound. This was America to Parks.

Song Cycles was just the first in Parks long exploration of the American experience. His follow up, Discover America takes the concept even further, immortalizing icons like Jack Palance, FDR and Bing Crosby.  This nation is a never ending font of ideas to Parks, and still today he’s still examining it. 

Tennis - Cape Dory We’ve been hearing conception stories about Tennis since last summer: husband and wife team sell worldly possessions, buy boat, set sail. And oh how romantic that all sounds, if somewhat familiar. Leaving land-locked responsibilities behind isn’t a novel fantasy - let’s remember where Joey Potter fled after breaking Dawson’s heart the 14th time. Upon returning, Alaina Moore and Patrick Riley took tales of their seven-month journey to the recording studio. Their efforts on land have yielded us “Cape Dory,” a 10-track LP full of toe-tapping surf pop that’s being released in the dead of winter. I understand that music like this isn’t particularly innovative or even all that lyrically challenging. She & Him, Best Coast and The Like all sha-la-la-ed it up last year. But there’s something about a well-done bit of girl-group pop—with all its tambourine shakes and finger snaps—that just sounds right to me. Moore’s singing of lazy “Bimini Bay,” nostalgic “South Carolina,” or even demanding “Take Me Somewhere” on the album opener hits all the right notes in reminding us of Joey’s summer away on Pacey’s boat. Despite clocking in under the 30 minute mark, “Cape Dory” makes my heart happy in this dreariest of winter months.

Tennis - Cape Dory

We’ve been hearing conception stories about Tennis since last summer: husband and wife team sell worldly possessions, buy boat, set sail. And oh how romantic that all sounds, if somewhat familiar. Leaving land-locked responsibilities behind isn’t a novel fantasy - let’s remember where Joey Potter fled after breaking Dawson’s heart the 14th time.

Upon returning, Alaina Moore and Patrick Riley took tales of their seven-month journey to the recording studio. Their efforts on land have yielded us “Cape Dory,” a 10-track LP full of toe-tapping surf pop that’s being released in the dead of winter.

I understand that music like this isn’t particularly innovative or even all that lyrically challenging. She & Him, Best Coast and The Like all sha-la-la-ed it up last year. But there’s something about a well-done bit of girl-group pop—with all its tambourine shakes and finger snaps—that just sounds right to me. Moore’s singing of lazy “Bimini Bay,” nostalgic “South Carolina,” or even demanding “Take Me Somewhere” on the album opener hits all the right notes in reminding us of Joey’s summer away on Pacey’s boat. Despite clocking in under the 30 minute mark, “Cape Dory” makes my heart happy in this dreariest of winter months.

NoMeansNo - The Worldhood of the World (As Such) So this is pretty cool. When I first got into NoMeansNo (one can only read so much praise about Wrong before caving), I found a torrent of their whole discography (ironically the same thing happened with Brian Jonestown Massacre), which for such a prolific band is pretty daunting. I pretty much just listened to Wrong on repeat, and as time went on, one of the 17 other records would pop up on shuffle. I got through Why Do They Call Me Mr. Happy?, Sex Mad + You Kill Me, and All Roads Lead to Ausfahrt in the following months and years, but a majority of it, I never really made it around to. Having said that, this was my first listen to Worldhood of the World, and it’s interesting to watch the progression of this band. For a band known for extremes, Worldhood is simultaneously more straightforward (“I’ve Got a Gun”) and more “out-there” (“The Jungle”) than their previous works. Rob Wright still stands as an indomitable force in underground music even more than ten years after his band’s epochal release. His Henry Rollins cum Jello Biafra vocal delivery is just as visceral as it was in the mid-80’s (something that stands true even on 2003’s All Roads Lead to Ausfahrt). The band’s strong knack for smartass pissed-off satire (again evoking Black Flag and Dead Kennedys) is timeless (“I love to hate,” Wright espouses on “My Politics”), and they play just as tight and raw as they ever have. The faux-operatic opening salvo coupled with a Ramones-esque pogo on “Joy” cleverly belies the raging cacophony to come, lulling the uninitiated listener into a false sense of security, before tearing at the throat for the subsequent 12 tracks.

NoMeansNo - The Worldhood of the World (As Such)

So this is pretty cool. When I first got into NoMeansNo (one can only read so much praise about Wrong before caving), I found a torrent of their whole discography (ironically the same thing happened with Brian Jonestown Massacre), which for such a prolific band is pretty daunting. I pretty much just listened to Wrong on repeat, and as time went on, one of the 17 other records would pop up on shuffle. I got through Why Do They Call Me Mr. Happy?, Sex Mad + You Kill Me, and All Roads Lead to Ausfahrt in the following months and years, but a majority of it, I never really made it around to. Having said that, this was my first listen to Worldhood of the World, and it’s interesting to watch the progression of this band.

For a band known for extremes, Worldhood is simultaneously more straightforward (“I’ve Got a Gun”) and more “out-there” (“The Jungle”) than their previous works. Rob Wright still stands as an indomitable force in underground music even more than ten years after his band’s epochal release. His Henry Rollins cum Jello Biafra vocal delivery is just as visceral as it was in the mid-80’s (something that stands true even on 2003’s All Roads Lead to Ausfahrt). The band’s strong knack for smartass pissed-off satire (again evoking Black Flag and Dead Kennedys) is timeless (“I love to hate,” Wright espouses on “My Politics”), and they play just as tight and raw as they ever have. The faux-operatic opening salvo coupled with a Ramones-esque pogo on “Joy” cleverly belies the raging cacophony to come, lulling the uninitiated listener into a false sense of security, before tearing at the throat for the subsequent 12 tracks.

Hum-You’d Prefer An Astronaut (1995) The inevitable discussion of “What album brings you back to the 90s?” seems to be making it’s rounds these days, especially now being a decade separated. You’d Prefer An Astronaut does just that, and has the both advantages of sitting right at the halfway point of the decade and being a solid album from beginning to end. Hum came at an interesting point for so-called alternative rock, when guys who followed the grunge movement sought something more sophisticated, but still wanted music that was raw and visceral. Hum treads that line in the way that mainstream listeners who were being tuned to the likes of Live and Alice In Chains could indulge, while ardent hardcore punks or early emo kids could jump in and not be disappointed by production value and critical success. They’re the kind of band that’s hard not to like, and this album is damn near impossible to toss aside. Even after fifteen years it’s not dated in the way a lot of the music from that time has aged. The album jumps between de-tuned, sludge-y riffs that chug endlessly for the finish line like “The Pod”, a song that really captures the best of 90’s radio rock and what it could have been, or the slightly more tame, but still unforgiving and oblique “Suicide Machine”, which could fit in the ranks of early Emo Diaries bands like Red Level or Triplefastaction. That being said, this album has something for listeners of varied taste, and functions as a perfect bridge between flannel and bowling shirts, a short-lived intermediary in the evolution of rock in the 90s.

Hum-You’d Prefer An Astronaut (1995)

The inevitable discussion of “What album brings you back to the 90s?” seems to be making it’s rounds these days, especially now being a decade separated. You’d Prefer An Astronaut does just that, and has the both advantages of sitting right at the halfway point of the decade and being a solid album from beginning to end. Hum came at an interesting point for so-called alternative rock, when guys who followed the grunge movement sought something more sophisticated, but still wanted music that was raw and visceral. Hum treads that line in the way that mainstream listeners who were being tuned to the likes of Live and Alice In Chains could indulge, while ardent hardcore punks or early emo kids could jump in and not be disappointed by production value and critical success. They’re the kind of band that’s hard not to like, and this album is damn near impossible to toss aside. Even after fifteen years it’s not dated in the way a lot of the music from that time has aged. The album jumps between de-tuned, sludge-y riffs that chug endlessly for the finish line like “The Pod”, a song that really captures the best of 90’s radio rock and what it could have been, or the slightly more tame, but still unforgiving and oblique “Suicide Machine”, which could fit in the ranks of early Emo Diaries bands like Red Level or Triplefastaction. That being said, this album has something for listeners of varied taste, and functions as a perfect bridge between flannel and bowling shirts, a short-lived intermediary in the evolution of rock in the 90s.

Magrudergrind - Crusher EP Honestly, there isn’t a whole lot to say about the EP. If you’ve ever liked blastbeat loaded hardcore bordering on grindcore but lacking that complete incoherence, you’ll dig Magrudergrind. The songs on this EP are less memorable than the stuff that showed up on 2009’s self-titled LP, but “Incapacity Reigns” and “Stagnant” are solid thrash. You’ll probably be more rewarded picking up an Assholeparade record if fastcore is your thing. The one thing I can’t figure out is why the Scion company decided to promote/release/be affiliated with this EP.

Magrudergrind - Crusher EP

Honestly, there isn’t a whole lot to say about the EP. If you’ve ever liked blastbeat loaded hardcore bordering on grindcore but lacking that complete incoherence, you’ll dig Magrudergrind. The songs on this EP are less memorable than the stuff that showed up on 2009’s self-titled LP, but “Incapacity Reigns” and “Stagnant” are solid thrash. You’ll probably be more rewarded picking up an Assholeparade record if fastcore is your thing. The one thing I can’t figure out is why the Scion company decided to promote/release/be affiliated with this EP.

The Brian Jonestown Massacre - Who Killed Sgt. Pepper? Certainly, I’m not the person who should be talking about this album. My knowledge of the BJM mythos and outlying works, etc, is relatively sparse. Sure, I’ve seen Dig and I’ve got most of their discography, but I haven’t really listened to any of it. I might even go as far as to say that this is the first BJM record I’ve ever listened to in full (and this is not my first listen, surprisingly). It’s not bad, but with a band like this, you’re never rating objectively, you’re always pitting it against the band’s heyday, or which line-up appears, or whether or not Anton Newcombe is on heroin. I mean, I don’t think it sounds bad, but from all the reviews I find, most die-hard BJM fans think the stuff about this album that I like (“Super Fucked”, “Let’s Go Fucking Mental”) is the death knell of this band, so what do I know? When the band actually settles into a groove that it doesn’t ride out for the duration of a whole song, it works, but like I said, it all hinges on the band finding a happy medium, jamming with some form of moderation, but of course, if you’re familiar with their history, you’ll know that moderation isn’t something easily attained.

The Brian Jonestown Massacre - Who Killed Sgt. Pepper?

Certainly, I’m not the person who should be talking about this album. My knowledge of the BJM mythos and outlying works, etc, is relatively sparse. Sure, I’ve seen Dig and I’ve got most of their discography, but I haven’t really listened to any of it. I might even go as far as to say that this is the first BJM record I’ve ever listened to in full (and this is not my first listen, surprisingly). It’s not bad, but with a band like this, you’re never rating objectively, you’re always pitting it against the band’s heyday, or which line-up appears, or whether or not Anton Newcombe is on heroin. I mean, I don’t think it sounds bad, but from all the reviews I find, most die-hard BJM fans think the stuff about this album that I like (“Super Fucked”, “Let’s Go Fucking Mental”) is the death knell of this band, so what do I know? When the band actually settles into a groove that it doesn’t ride out for the duration of a whole song, it works, but like I said, it all hinges on the band finding a happy medium, jamming with some form of moderation, but of course, if you’re familiar with their history, you’ll know that moderation isn’t something easily attained.

The Promise Ring- Nothing Feels Good Boy am I glad shuffle wanted me to listen to this tonight. Everyone, at least once, needs to give this record a spin. For what it’s doing, it’s essentially perfect: gorgeous but not sappy, simple but not punk, redundant, but gaining momentum by doing so without feeling repetitious. Fans of either Cap’n Jazz or Jimmy Eat World ought already know this band, by singer Davey von Bohlen’s tenure in the former or the near-legendary friendship with the latter which resulted in many lyrical shout-outs. Nothing Feels Good sounds like neither of those bands though. This record has an aura all it’s own: nostalgic for nothing, static, willfully sentimental yet giving equal fanfare to the joyous and the heartbreaking. There is not a bad song here. Especially wrenching is the title track, where the final line- I’ve got my hands on the one hand, but I don’t know where to put them- caps off the overture to being utterly stalled. In trading off lines of seemingly unnecessary and unrelated sentimentality with bits of intensely personal joy or regret, von Bohlen paints… something. The meaning isn’t always obvious, and in fact, songs like “Forget Me” can be loosely interpreted in at least a dozen ways, yet the touch-and-go emotional quality somehow makes it more relatable because the songs are either not ambitious or foolish enough to pidgeonhole themselves to one direct message.  Nothing Feels Good is not a one night stand. You will fall in love with it slowly and care about it as though you wrote it yourself.

The Promise Ring- Nothing Feels Good

Boy am I glad shuffle wanted me to listen to this tonight. Everyone, at least once, needs to give this record a spin. For what it’s doing, it’s essentially perfect: gorgeous but not sappy, simple but not punk, redundant, but gaining momentum by doing so without feeling repetitious. Fans of either Cap’n Jazz or Jimmy Eat World ought already know this band, by singer Davey von Bohlen’s tenure in the former or the near-legendary friendship with the latter which resulted in many lyrical shout-outs. Nothing Feels Good sounds like neither of those bands though. This record has an aura all it’s own: nostalgic for nothing, static, willfully sentimental yet giving equal fanfare to the joyous and the heartbreaking. There is not a bad song here. Especially wrenching is the title track, where the final line- I’ve got my hands on the one hand, but I don’t know where to put them- caps off the overture to being utterly stalled. In trading off lines of seemingly unnecessary and unrelated sentimentality with bits of intensely personal joy or regret, von Bohlen paints… something. The meaning isn’t always obvious, and in fact, songs like “Forget Me” can be loosely interpreted in at least a dozen ways, yet the touch-and-go emotional quality somehow makes it more relatable because the songs are either not ambitious or foolish enough to pidgeonhole themselves to one direct message. 

Nothing Feels Good is not a one night stand. You will fall in love with it slowly and care about it as though you wrote it yourself.

Matt Sweeney and Bonnie “Prince” Billy-Superwolf (2005) Bonnie “Prince” Billy alter-ego Will Oldham has stated he took the name of exiled British noble Bonnie “Prince” Charley because he thought it was a beautiful name and beautiful things should live on.  Oldham’s music follows this same statement.  Superwolf, a collaboration between guitarist Matt Sweeney and troubadour Oldham, excels at toeing the line between beautiful and depressing. Oldham’s emotion-filled vocals drip with regret and darkness, yet also are calming and pleasant.  Sweeney’s melodies sweep by like chromatic poetry, sneaking up on the listener to deliver extra emphasis for Oldham’s lyrics. Like a hobo Billie Holiday, Oldham is able to wring out every bit of emotion from his voice, projecting all his pain and discomfort to the listener.  Listening to one man’s inner torment laid out the way Oldham and Sweeney do is beautiful. Themes of heartbreak surround this work. On “My Home Is The Sea” and “Beast For Thee” Oldham sings as a lost soul, someone who is substituting for his long-long love.  “I Gave You” is the most heart-wrenching song on the album: a story about a man who gave everything for his love, and still gets rejected. By the end, Oldham is near tears, the repressed emotion of the rest of the album finally hitting him.  Many people will confuse this for a solo Bonnie “Prince” Billy album, and forget about Sweeney’s work on it.  While it’s easy just to take this as another iteration of Oldham’s many personae, this one should be seen as special. Sweeney is one of the only collaborators of Oldham who have been able to keep up with him style-wise.  Together they make beautiful depressing music.

Matt Sweeney and Bonnie “Prince” Billy-Superwolf (2005)

Bonnie “Prince” Billy alter-ego Will Oldham has stated he took the name of exiled British noble Bonnie “Prince” Charley because he thought it was a beautiful name and beautiful things should live on.  Oldham’s music follows this same statement. 

Superwolf, a collaboration between guitarist Matt Sweeney and troubadour Oldham, excels at toeing the line between beautiful and depressing. Oldham’s emotion-filled vocals drip with regret and darkness, yet also are calming and pleasant.  Sweeney’s melodies sweep by like chromatic poetry, sneaking up on the listener to deliver extra emphasis for Oldham’s lyrics. Like a hobo Billie Holiday, Oldham is able to wring out every bit of emotion from his voice, projecting all his pain and discomfort to the listener.  Listening to one man’s inner torment laid out the way Oldham and Sweeney do is beautiful.

Themes of heartbreak surround this work. On “My Home Is The Sea” and “Beast For Thee” Oldham sings as a lost soul, someone who is substituting for his long-long love.  “I Gave You” is the most heart-wrenching song on the album: a story about a man who gave everything for his love, and still gets rejected. By the end, Oldham is near tears, the repressed emotion of the rest of the album finally hitting him. 

Many people will confuse this for a solo Bonnie “Prince” Billy album, and forget about Sweeney’s work on it.  While it’s easy just to take this as another iteration of Oldham’s many personae, this one should be seen as special. Sweeney is one of the only collaborators of Oldham who have been able to keep up with him style-wise.  Together they make beautiful depressing music.

Dangers - Anger Lo and behold, you’re still a scumbag File under: appropriately named records. Transparently furious hardcore from the west coast that’s heavy on chugga riffs and a particularly “east coast” style of hardcore. If Sheer Terror had been influenced by Sheer Terror, they’d have probably sounded like this. I first got into this band when last year’s Messy, Isn’t It? was recommended to me by my buddy Craig, but once I discovered their first record, I almost couldn’t listen to it anymore. While the follow-up is still a solid negi hardcore album, it simply doesn’t touch the raw visceral charm of Anger. Vocalist Al Brown makes songs like “Half Brother, All Cop”, “Power Chord Blues”, and “Shop Till You Drop Dead” seethe with bile and muscle, and his crack band deliver the same boot to the skull. Immensely masochistic and punishing hardcore, but in the best possible way.

Dangers - Anger

Lo and behold, you’re still a scumbag

File under: appropriately named records. Transparently furious hardcore from the west coast that’s heavy on chugga riffs and a particularly “east coast” style of hardcore. If Sheer Terror had been influenced by Sheer Terror, they’d have probably sounded like this. I first got into this band when last year’s Messy, Isn’t It? was recommended to me by my buddy Craig, but once I discovered their first record, I almost couldn’t listen to it anymore. While the follow-up is still a solid negi hardcore album, it simply doesn’t touch the raw visceral charm of Anger. Vocalist Al Brown makes songs like “Half Brother, All Cop”, “Power Chord Blues”, and “Shop Till You Drop Dead” seethe with bile and muscle, and his crack band deliver the same boot to the skull. Immensely masochistic and punishing hardcore, but in the best possible way.

Dead to Me - Little Brother EP Can we just start this one by saying pointedly that no punk rock band in the universe has any right to be as secretly poppy as Dead to Me is. Having seen a lot of punk bands think they were a lot of really weird things, it still surprises me that Dead to Me seem to think that they’re the Ronettes, the Little Brother EP being seemingly the most (intentionally or not) influenced by Ronnie Spector’s eponymous girl group. The “ooooh”s hidden all over the EP are contagious, and make me wonder why I don’t write more vocal melodies with “ooooh”s (see also: Fugazi’s “Full Disclosure”). Easily the most dynamic, yet most grounded punk band going right now, Dead to Me play with melody and harmony within the punk rock context that no other band does (save maybe A Wilhelm Scream). This being the last thing the band recorded with founding guitarist/vocalist Jack Dalrymple (ex-One Man Army), a lot of it leans toward his strengths. His innate sense of melody and song structure shines through a lot of the grungy atmosphere that this band seems to express. It’s an incredible EP by a band who has no right to sound as polished or be as smart as they are. With another great album under their belts, I honestly think Dead to Me could be considered one of the greatest and most influential punk bands of this generation.

Dead to Me - Little Brother EP

Can we just start this one by saying pointedly that no punk rock band in the universe has any right to be as secretly poppy as Dead to Me is. Having seen a lot of punk bands think they were a lot of really weird things, it still surprises me that Dead to Me seem to think that they’re the Ronettes, the Little Brother EP being seemingly the most (intentionally or not) influenced by Ronnie Spector’s eponymous girl group. The “ooooh”s hidden all over the EP are contagious, and make me wonder why I don’t write more vocal melodies with “ooooh”s (see also: Fugazi’s “Full Disclosure”). Easily the most dynamic, yet most grounded punk band going right now, Dead to Me play with melody and harmony within the punk rock context that no other band does (save maybe A Wilhelm Scream). This being the last thing the band recorded with founding guitarist/vocalist Jack Dalrymple (ex-One Man Army), a lot of it leans toward his strengths. His innate sense of melody and song structure shines through a lot of the grungy atmosphere that this band seems to express. It’s an incredible EP by a band who has no right to sound as polished or be as smart as they are. With another great album under their belts, I honestly think Dead to Me could be considered one of the greatest and most influential punk bands of this generation.