Thursday, May 2, 2002 -- 02:45 p.m.

Ya see, Tom Ewing of NYLPM gave me a brief blurb somewhere on that site (Ctrl-F "Patrin", it's a big page) and called me "The Acceptable Face of Rockism". So I Googled "Rockism" and found the thread above.

Hrm.

Quoth aforementioned Tom: "[I]t's an apparent presumption that rock is the centre of music and that the ways in which rock gets talked about are the best ways of talking about it and music in general[...]." Well, okay. Granted, I try to flaunt my "I like all kindsa music" routine as often as possible but maybe I'm doing it wrong. Note the disparity betwixt this week's Top Five Songs (satirical industrial electro; retro-'60s-psych-pop; dub-esque trip-hop; gothic proto-disco and porno-funk hip-hop)and Top Five Albums of the week (rock, rock, rock, rock and rock- albeit with the qualifiers "prog", "post-modern", "garage", "blues" and "fucking awesome"). Weird. Then again, two of my top three albums of the week were ones that I bought belatedly, over two (or in the Stones' case, 30) years after they came out. This hinged on a feeling that I had gaping holes in my music library. #s 4 and 5 were long-time favorites that I dug out recently for another go-through just to see how they stood up to my ever-evolving tastes (answer: pretty good, though "Money" is a mite cheesy and "Derelict" is still an instant skip-over track). Meanwhile I've been absorbing lots of stuff, softening my opinions on certain groups and genres for no discernable reason other than maybe I'm becoming more open-minded (if you told me a year ago I'd love the hell out of Daft Punk and Basement Jaxx I'd laugh and laugh and laugh at you and then throw something at your head). Funny how that works.

My musical tastes have evolved kind of strangely in the two dozen years I've been around - I discovered Bob Dylan, Run-D.M.C., John Coltrane and the Repo Man soundtrack at roughly the same period of time when I was around eight or so, which could explain something. Then I wound up getting caught up in an inane classic rock obsession at around age 11. We're talking about late '80s mid-America and pop radio is dominated by Hammer and Milli Vanilli and Vanilla Ice. I know Dee-Lite and Rob Base & EZ Rock had singles that I thought were okay, but the rest led me to throw up my hands and yell "to hell with this, where's a station that'll play some damn Beatles?" I stuck with classic rock through my first year or so of high school, with a side interest in a small handful of hip-hop acts (BDP, De La Soul, 3rd Bass- what ever happened to MC Serch, anyways? Besides a cameo in Bamboozled?). Then Nirvana comes around and, as previously mentioned on this site, Nirvana led to Alice In Chains led to Mudhoney led to Sonic Youth led to the Ramones led to the Clash led to Dead Kennedys led to the Replacements by the time I graduated. (I think Green Day might have been in there somewhere, too. I dug them for a while, then quickly disowned them. Now I'm starting to wonder if they're actually decent power-pop worth checking out again. BUT I DIGRESS)

The point is this: in my formidable high school years, give or take the occasional Prince Paul-produced masterwork or the inevitable foray into Beastie Boys territory, my knowledge of things Not Rock was pretty damn limited. My brother- who was far more into hip-hop than I was- recommended that I check out this group called Gang Starr and bought me a tape called Hard to Earn which I listened to and liked a bit but never really felt. Until I graduated, my exposure to A Tribe Called Quest was limited almost entirely to his guest spots on Three Feet High and Rising and Ill Communication. I also knew that funk and soul existed and were probably very worthwhile when it came to record-hunting, but I didn't quite know where to look and was thus content to listen to Kool and the Gang's "Jungle Boogie" when I needed a funk fix (it was '94, Pulp Fiction was it). And don't even talk to me about electronic music- Music For the Jilted Generation, Snivilisation, I Care Because You Do and Exit Planet Dust were all released during or just after my senior year and I could have easily bought them if I wanted to, but the only club music I'd ever really been exposed to was the Smart E's "Sesame's Treet" and I thought "if this is techno, then leave me out of it."

In other words, I grew up in such a rock-centric atmosphere that despite the efforts of my brother and a few friends to turn me on to hip-hop and club music, I felt completely foreign in that particular territory, no matter how much I loved what I'd heard. I had long grunge hair and wore '70s flannel shirts; even if I thought Return of the Boom-Bap was brilliant, how weird would I feel actually saying so in public? "Yeah, right, St. Paul Central High's #1 Kurt Cobain look-alike/Doors fan is down with KRS-One. Sure." College changed all that, of course- got a haircut, bought The Low End Theory on double-vinyl and procured an original pressing of Superfly for 25 cents and taped the whole damn thing for my daily campus commute. Hell, I even purged the unpleasant memories of cheesy cash-in candy raver anthems and took a chance with a Harthouse Point of No Return compilation that officially indoctrinated me into the wonderful world of electronic music. But I still feel like I've got a ways to go. I never, ever listen to the local top 40 station, even though I hear that Timbaland and the Neptunes are filling those airwaves with amazing music. I still cling firm to the opinion that ABBA and Madonna are not worth my time. I don't even like the fucking Chronic (though I am not immune to the UNFH-good-god of "Nothin' But A G Thang"). It's sort of uneasy territory for me, though I think if I just buckle down and dive into it, hell, what could it hurt?

Hey, it worked for Basement Jaxx.

This is how you refute a bad review.
Monday, April 29, 2002 -- 08:42 p.m.

Nate's Top Five Songs and Albums for the week of 04.29.02

Songs:
5) Kompressor, "Kompressor Does Not Dance": I'm 95% sure this is a joke- the joke being that some German kid named Andreas has moved to Ohio in order to destroy America with German industrial music. As someone who has been subjected to many a bad indie band website, I find his own page especially hilarious ("Instruments: SYNTH, CRUSH, FEAR, DEATH; Influences: NO"), and his music is a great pisstake on the whole KMFDM/Rammstein attitude of Euro-death electro-industrial sounds. This particular song deals with ravers, which is probably the oldest target in the world (goths excepted) when it comes to internet mockery, but the lyrics are pure gold: "We do not use a Macintosh, instead we use a Tandy/Kompressor break your glowstick, Kompressor eat your candy." Beats the daylights out of "All Your Base..." and "Yatta!", that's for damn sure.
4) Broadcast, "The Book Lovers": This band's '99 classic The Noise Made By People helped me not care so much about the fact that Portishead has somehow gone missing or something. Back in '97, at about the same time Beth Gibbons et al were getting mocked by stupid critics for releasing an album that sounded just like their last one (except that it didn't), Broadcast snuck this track on the Austin Powers soundtrack of all places and it's a great example of the retro-psych-mod-Schifrin/Barry coolness that I thought was going to take over the music world (not unlike how I feel about Ladytron and other fine purveyors of "electroclash" right now, but enough with the parenthetical asides, dammit). "The Book Lovers" practically hemorrhages '60s style: Trish Keenan plays Nico sans accent and with a better grasp of melody, yet with enigma intact. There's lots of strings. There's a harpsichord that sounds tuned for perfect Bernard Herrmann atmospherics. There's a great relentless beat and lyrics about espionage and it's too cool to be forever mated in the minds of mainstream America with the caperings of a snaggletoothed Mike Myers.
3) Gorillaz, "Dracula": The first of two Automator appearances here; he's like the DJ Premier of weirdo-rap. Any tape-mixers worth their C-90s would be wise enough to file this right after one of the Clash's early '80s dub-experiments ("Bankrobber/Robber Dub", maybe), 'cause this is what it sounds like. Damon sounds weary and wasted on this, at least when he's singing, which ain't much. The bassline and the horns and the guitar all seduce me in their individual ways, and I file this one back in my brain for future reference to bring out again for a humid summer night.
2) Giorgio, "Tears": The "Giorgio" in this case happens to have the last name of Moroder. It's the last track on an album called "Son Of My Father", and it's probably most famous for providing DJ Shadow's "Organ Donor" with its chilling opening notes (remarked a friend once while hearing it: "sounds like Castlevania music"). It's brilliant how this song builds- organ first, then wordless female vocals (which oddly remind me of Beth Orton), then bass, then drums, then strings, then another organ (probably a synth), then a guitar, then another- and nearly every single instrument playing a variation on that spine-gripping riff. It's the musical equivalent of a cliffhanger and it's a classic piece of early evidence that Moroder would wind up one of the most important and renowned producers and composers of '70s pop.
1) Automator feat. Kool Keith, "It's Over Now": Shortly before Kool Keith was in the studio for Dr. Octagon he cut a few tracks with Automator that would wind up on the A Better Tomorrow EP- and as much as I love the hell out of "Cartoon Capers", I gotta say that this track is the best on the whole album. This is a masterpiece of a bitter "fukk yoo" rant, better than the ones that made Matthew an exercise in somewhat tiring catharsis, with less of a focus on Keith's strange nonsequitiurs (Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck references, mostly) and more straight-up storytelling. The lyrics mostly deal with the travails of being in a mostly-unrecognized underground hip-hop group, borrowing rent money from mom and being jerked around by the label while superficial chumps with less skill than The Man Who Would Be Black Elvis hang around with Arsenio and get all the booty. It's a less hurried, less manic sort of flow than Keith usually busts out- the only real ear-bending quirk being the change of delivery in the chorus near the end- and Automator's sleazy porno wah-wah, "Gimme Shelter"-esque oooo-oooohs and lonely trumpet coda fit it perfectly.

Albums:
5) Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon: As mentioned last week: I think somebody needs to reclaim this as the logical follow-up to Pet Sounds instead of the stoner-with-a-blacklight-and-big-headphones pariah all the post-punk critics make it out to be. I can name ten things that make this album essential: the steel guitar in "Breathe"; the blistering proto-IDM of "On The Run"; the opening notes of "Time" as the alarms fade away; Clare Torry's celestial vocals on "The Great Gig in the Sky"; David Gilmour's anti-Page style of subtle soloing (especially during "Time"- you don't have to be a virtuoso to play that); lyrics that might as well be Gang of Four at some points (if a little clunkier); the strange little nods to Motown, Phil Spector and gospel music all over the album; Roger Waters' strange, detached voice; Richard Wright's organ playing on "Eclipse"; that woman who talks about somebody "cruisin' for a bruisin'." Just ignore all the hippie-dip hangers-on and the "Wizard of Oz" bullshit and pretend this isn't the favorite album of washout potheads everywhere. That makes it sound better.
4) Beck, Odelay: There's so much about this album that will always make me admire it, and it mostly centers on Beck's whole effort to get away from the "that 'Loser' guy" stigma and create something so out-there and vibrant that the one-hit wonder stigma would be permanently demolished. The first four tracks consist of one of the best quadruple-whammies of the '90s- the junkyard fuzz-blues "Devil's Haircut", the N'Awlins-gone-Fluxus "Hotwax", the grunge-country collision "Lord Only Knows" and the dementedly beautiful "The New Pollution"- that when the too-weird "Derelict" comes along to break things up it seems almost necessary in order to give the listener some much-needed breathing room. Beck goes everywhere on this album, and it almost sounds like a meticulous collage of the wide scope of American pop music from the '50s onward: Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, Captain Beefheart, the Meters, Tom Waits, Talking Heads, the Plugz, Beastie Boys, Mudhoney, Pavement- but there's that voice that unites it all, somewhere between laconic and mischevious and cocky and lonely, singing about places and people in a sneaky, indirect fashion laden with metaphors both lyrical and musical, hinting at things that seem familiar but just out of reach when it comes time to place them. Many misguided people call this album "ironic"; I think it's one of the most sincere albums I've ever heard.
3) The White Stripes, The White Stripes: One of the most interesting moments in a music fan's life is when they realize that a band they sort of like has been completely made irrelevant by another band that does everything the other band did but much, much better. It took me a listen to my recently-purchased copy of the White Stripes' '99 debut to come to the realization that I could never really hear the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion the same way again, since Jack and Meg stripped down that whitefolks-garage-blues essence down to one (1) guitar and one (1) drumkit and cleared away all the inane self-shoutouts and goofy cartoon Elvis posturing and everything else that makes well-meaning but obnoxious writers bitch about "blue-eyed [insert genre here]". There's no comparison to the perfection of White Blood Cells; this one is a little shakier and doesn't contain anything as immediately head-grabbing as "Hotel Yorba" or "Fell In Love With A Girl", but it's all here- Jack's unbridled rocknroll yowling and super-sludgy thick-bottomed asskick guitars and Meg's try-an'-stop-me drumming, a glorious, messy and fascinating-in-retrospect look at a just plain great band.
2) The Rolling Stones, Exile On Main Street: Three years after "Easy Rider", five Brits go looking for America and find it everywhere. I'd elaborate, but I've only had this CD a week and I feel like I need to listen to it for a hell of a lot longer than that to really understand all the nuances. This bastard is deep...
1) Wilco, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot:...but this might be even deeper. "War On War" builds and rumbles like it was produced by the Chemical Brothers; "Heavy Metal Drummer" captures the happiness of hard rock better than didactic party-thug Andrew W.K. ever could; "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart" succeeds in doing just that. I suppose I could combine the album art with the lyrics to "Ashes of American Flags" and the rumor of a tentative 9/11/01 release date, but that would tarnish this album and burden it with a meaning that's less universal than the one it already has- that sometimes life is filled with uneasy dichotomies and convoluted patriot politics and the best way to get through it is the sound of someone else's voice on the radio.