a coherent collection of random statements regarding God, words and tunes

Things to Keep You Afloat While Y'r Floundering

     I'll get back to new stuff next week, probably (and maybe Amazon'll even have its own image I can copy so you can see the book cover from the last entry by then) -- one review for sure (of another long-overdue artist who's graced us with not one but two brand-spankin'-new albums) and possibly one more (if it's good enough, but it's got a couple tim songs so that might be enough to push it over the top regardless )

     For now, though: One old friend I badly needed to replace, one old friend I'm discovering in a new place, and one new friend altogether that I'm thoroughly enjoying without the benefit of its original Zeitgeist:

     Nirvana -- In Utero -- This still sounds like the definitive album of the '90s -- not specifically the best, as well-documented in entries past, but in terms of "defining its time." And it does remain one of the best of the decade. Even uglier than it is angry (and it's BLOODY angry), and bloodier brilliant all the way through. You can practically hear the rifle trigger being cocked, loaded and clicked. (Not that that's a good thing, but if that doesn't convey the intensity here I don't know what does.)
     Without going into another one of my dissertations: The lyrics of "Serve the Servants" seem even more pointed now than they did back then; the "GO AWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!" of "Scentless Apprentice" still simultaneously shoots my adrenalin through the roof and scares the crap out of me; I love the way the anthemic "Smells Like Teen Spirit" gets turned inside-out into the fame-intolerant "Rape Me"; "Pennyroyal Tea" remains a brilliant rant against one's own indifference and frailty; and "All Apologies" is one of those perfect songs you only hear once from any given band (if you -- and they -- are lucky), wherein all in all is all they are. And then they were done.

     Graham Parker -- Struck by Lightning -- Only from a bit earlier a time than In Utero (1991, in this case), but I'd never heard it before and I officially declare myself a dope for that. But I'm making up for it now. As Graham disappeared into obscurity after Mona Lisa's Sister (and the mostly dreadful Human Soul) -- and into the Catskills (heck, I probably drove past his house on the way to retreat each year -- there I go again... ) -- the guy clearly rediscovered himself. 
     This deceptively pastoral album is growing on me by leaps and bounds -- it's so seemingly mellow that when stuff starts popping it's dang near revelatory. The opener, "She Wants So Many Things," has gone from catchy refrain to near-Dylanesque in its scope; "Strong Wind" hearkens back to the old heart ballads of Heat Treatment; "The Kid with the Butterfly Net" is a heartbreakingly happy ode to childhood, with an eye towards the jadedness of adulthood that awaits; "The Sun Is Gonna Shine Again" is a great closer, and you want to believe it as much the singer wants to.

     Modest Mouse -- Good News for People Who Love Bad News -- How the heck did I miss this? Well, one, 'cause I don't listen to commercial radio. In fact -- I kid you not -- the first time I heard "Float On" was in the rental car I had during my unexpected and undesired trip back to Jersey in February. I thought it was the new Franz Ferdinand single and didn't give it a second thought. 
     But a month or so ago, I borrowed it off my oldest daughter (who'd bought it for her sister the previous Christmas, but who didn't like it past "Float On" -- which, I should remind you, I still thought was a Franz Ferdinand song at this point). I can definitely say this is the best "new" (for me, anyway) album I've heard so far this year. Musically all over the map, but the fact that two main stops appear to be Brian Wilson and Tom Waits somehow holds it together. Vigorously agnostic, but honestly so and with a huge sense of humor. (The "YOU missed! YOU missed!" falsetto yelping behind the charming inquisition "You wasted life -- why wouldn't you waste death?" on "Ocean Breathes Salty" is just one priceless example that gets in yr head and won't leave.)
     And maybe it's just the way I experienced it personally, but I can't imagine really "getting" the danged-happy-despite-itself (and is that Dexy's Midnight Runners I hear partying in the background?) "Float On" without first hearing its winsome Beach Boys-esque prelude, "The World at Large." "Bury Me With It" sounds like the Red Hot Chili Peppers having a nervous breakdown (and few things would give me greater pleasure....). On the other end of the spectrum, "Blame It on the Tetons" is a gorgeously quiet song that practically sounds like Steve Forbert in places, and while I can't figure out who the goofily poignant "The Good Times Are Killing Me" is directed at (the aforementioned Mr. Wilson, who it nails perfectly here? The band themselves?), it sure sounds like a perfect "reaping what you sow" culmination of everything that's passed over the last hour.

     Heck, I feel better just writing about this stuff. More good stuff next week.

Posted by: burninglight at 16:21 | link | comments