*Update* The current GWAR tour is not cancelled. All dates will remain as scheduled.
Guitarist Cory Smoot of GWAR was found dead on his band's tour bus yesterday morning. They were just about to launch a tour of Canada. Smoot, or Flattus Maximus, was 34. Here's a classic track from these guys in tribute. See if you can find a video of those guys wreaking havoc on the hipsters at SXSW last year.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Monday, October 31, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
Sage
"If more people worshipped music, the world would be a better place"
-Scott Ian of Anthrax
Amen to that, brother.
-Scott Ian of Anthrax
Amen to that, brother.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Platform
I love the extended guitar workout. Songs that exist for one reason, and one reason only -- so a hotshot axe-picker can blast off and solo his way into the sun. And I'm 'aint talkin' 'bout "Eruption" here, or any whimsical folk breakdown like Steve Howe or Jimmy Page might do. I'm talking about those slow-burning scorchers where the rhythm section locks in and lays down a bone-simple rhythmic bed for the soloist to go off on, and the singer retires from the stage to go get a blowjob from a groupie. They can be any length, but the best ones are the ones where either you never notice the time going by, or they leave you wishing they went on longer. So, without further ado, here is a few of my favorites.
Acid Mothers Temple & The Cosmic Inferno - First, all you hear is the drones and chants of the ancients, as if a giant obelisk looms in the distance. Suddenly a screech of feedback announces the arrival of an amped-up speed-freak boogie riff, and Japanese acid guru Kawabata Motako proceeds to being tearing the riff to pieces for the next 20 minutes. As analog synths pan dementedly and a warped space god makes cosmic pronouncements in the background, Motako carries on a full throttle sonic assault, exploring every scorching harmonic that his ultra-distorted guitar can summon.
Comets On Fire - Blue Tomb
Comets On Fire, where have you gone? For the first half of the 00s, these guys absolutely cold-cocked all comers in the psychedelic ultra-rock weight division. Since 2006 however, not a trace of these guys exists on the internet. Twin guitar godzillas Ethan Miller and Ben Chasny have obviously been busy with their many respective projects, but come on guys. It's been five years. You'd think you could at least hit the studio for a weekend and kick out some apocalyptic space death jams with the tape rolling just to give us heads something. Well, if they well and truly are finished, at least we'll always have this hazy sludge mountain to remember them by. As the titanic finale to Blue Cathedral, one of the greatest rock albums ever made, this 10 minute behemoth has always stood as the band's crowning achievement. Chasny and Miller here go supernova as the rythm section lays down a hypnotic groove anchored by Ben Flashman's supremely fuzzy bass. Unlike other Comets freakouts which are all feedback, distortion and amp scream, this is a controlled explosion in molasses slow-motion build towards a triumphant finale. Spirals of guitar undulate and bisect each other at chaotic angles while never spiralling too far from the song's central bass hook. Noel Von Harmonson's echoplex splatter adds a further dimension of sonic dimentia over top. When the whole thing explodes into a heavenly finale, you'll finally glimpse enlightenment. Too band they haven't been around in a while to take us back there.
Built To Spill - Broken Chairs
Doug Marsch is the rarest of things, an indie rock guitar hero. I don't know when hipsters decided that being a really good guitarist was actually a bad thing, but clearly no one told this guy. For a man that has made his career penning unforgettable melodies and twee as fuck ruminations on halcyon innocence, Marsh can absolutely wail on his axe. There is no better showcase for his fuzzy, Crazy Horse-inspired leads than the closing number from their 1999 Keep It Like A Secret album. Check out the 19 minute version on the aptly titled Live album if you really wanna hear him tear a hole in the universe.
Funkadelic - Maggot Brain
George Clinton told Eddie Hazel to "play like yo mamma just died," and for the next 9 minutes, Hazel lays down an apocalyptic sonic trip through the gates of hell. Although he does pick up into some flashy, shredding licks at times, most of the solo accentuates Hazel's heavily delayed and distorted wah-inflected tone with masterfully sustained notes and emotionally devastating bends. If Hazel had done nothing else besides this song, he'd still deserve to rank among the greatest guitarists of all time. As it happens, he's all over the first three Funkadelic records, each of them a true psychedelic classic.
Jimi Hendrix - Red House
Really, any number of Hendrix tracks could have belonged on this list, but I've always had a soft spot for this cool Mississippi blues workout. Hendrix would often channel his earthy soul and years of chitlin circuit experience on this song, which he often extended up to 15 minutes or more in concert. Although not a pre-requisite for a great guitar showcase, his excellent vocal performance is of note. He's in full lover-man persona here, his vocals dripping with character and sexual desire. This is interesting, because Hendrix himself thought he was a bad singer, an assertion that I never agreed with.
Neil Young - Like A Hurricane
Not that Niel Young has a shortage of extended guitar jam platforms, but I've always been particularly in love with this song. Though he was known to stretch it out to impossible lengths in concert, this mainstay of his set never bores me. Well, maybe if you include his 33 minute sound collage Arc, but I don't. This song's unforgettable melody is couched in some of Young's most expressive soloing and bookended by his emotionally devastating singing. An absolute masterpiece.
Randy Holden - Fruit & Icebergs
Randy Holden recorded a version of this song with Blue Cheer on their New! Improved! album, but he was only a member of those rapidly fading sludge barons at the tail end of their initial period of greatness. Holden himslef stuck around long enough to record just one side of the record, then went off to record his incredible Population II solo debut, from which this song was taken. The album itself is a love letter to the electric guitar, an example of just how far you can go with one drummer, one supremely gifted axe-slinger, and a wall of amplifiers. This version of "Fruit & Icebergs" is done in gloriously sludgy half-time with twice the fuzz of the original. Holden's jaw-dropping excursions take 60's inspired hard rock and electric blues cliches straight into the ionosphere. You can almost hear the sweat beads running down Holden's forehead and the grimace on his face as he bends into and out of notes all over his punished fretboard. No doubt about it, the man sounds like he's digging a grave. Too bad the album didn't get released for 20 years and the record company sold his gear out from under him, kicking off Holden's 25 year exile from the music world.
Robin Trower - Bridge Of Sighs
I can't get over how rich and thick Trower's tone is on the title track from his 1974 solo album. Trower was never the fastest or most technical player, but when it came to nailing those slow, endless and liquid-smooth space-blues licks, no one has done it better save of Hendrix himself.
Sonic Youth - Hits Of Sunshine (For Allen Ginsberg)
This is actually a group guitar jam, but the song's lazy lope is the perfect place for Thurston Moore and Lee Ronaldo to slather their molten, fuzz-caked guitars all over a gently babbling river of hallucinogenic sound. Take the trip.
Acid Mothers Temple & The Cosmic Inferno - First, all you hear is the drones and chants of the ancients, as if a giant obelisk looms in the distance. Suddenly a screech of feedback announces the arrival of an amped-up speed-freak boogie riff, and Japanese acid guru Kawabata Motako proceeds to being tearing the riff to pieces for the next 20 minutes. As analog synths pan dementedly and a warped space god makes cosmic pronouncements in the background, Motako carries on a full throttle sonic assault, exploring every scorching harmonic that his ultra-distorted guitar can summon.
Comets On Fire - Blue Tomb
Comets On Fire, where have you gone? For the first half of the 00s, these guys absolutely cold-cocked all comers in the psychedelic ultra-rock weight division. Since 2006 however, not a trace of these guys exists on the internet. Twin guitar godzillas Ethan Miller and Ben Chasny have obviously been busy with their many respective projects, but come on guys. It's been five years. You'd think you could at least hit the studio for a weekend and kick out some apocalyptic space death jams with the tape rolling just to give us heads something. Well, if they well and truly are finished, at least we'll always have this hazy sludge mountain to remember them by. As the titanic finale to Blue Cathedral, one of the greatest rock albums ever made, this 10 minute behemoth has always stood as the band's crowning achievement. Chasny and Miller here go supernova as the rythm section lays down a hypnotic groove anchored by Ben Flashman's supremely fuzzy bass. Unlike other Comets freakouts which are all feedback, distortion and amp scream, this is a controlled explosion in molasses slow-motion build towards a triumphant finale. Spirals of guitar undulate and bisect each other at chaotic angles while never spiralling too far from the song's central bass hook. Noel Von Harmonson's echoplex splatter adds a further dimension of sonic dimentia over top. When the whole thing explodes into a heavenly finale, you'll finally glimpse enlightenment. Too band they haven't been around in a while to take us back there.
Built To Spill - Broken Chairs
Doug Marsch is the rarest of things, an indie rock guitar hero. I don't know when hipsters decided that being a really good guitarist was actually a bad thing, but clearly no one told this guy. For a man that has made his career penning unforgettable melodies and twee as fuck ruminations on halcyon innocence, Marsh can absolutely wail on his axe. There is no better showcase for his fuzzy, Crazy Horse-inspired leads than the closing number from their 1999 Keep It Like A Secret album. Check out the 19 minute version on the aptly titled Live album if you really wanna hear him tear a hole in the universe.
Funkadelic - Maggot Brain
George Clinton told Eddie Hazel to "play like yo mamma just died," and for the next 9 minutes, Hazel lays down an apocalyptic sonic trip through the gates of hell. Although he does pick up into some flashy, shredding licks at times, most of the solo accentuates Hazel's heavily delayed and distorted wah-inflected tone with masterfully sustained notes and emotionally devastating bends. If Hazel had done nothing else besides this song, he'd still deserve to rank among the greatest guitarists of all time. As it happens, he's all over the first three Funkadelic records, each of them a true psychedelic classic.
Jimi Hendrix - Red House
Really, any number of Hendrix tracks could have belonged on this list, but I've always had a soft spot for this cool Mississippi blues workout. Hendrix would often channel his earthy soul and years of chitlin circuit experience on this song, which he often extended up to 15 minutes or more in concert. Although not a pre-requisite for a great guitar showcase, his excellent vocal performance is of note. He's in full lover-man persona here, his vocals dripping with character and sexual desire. This is interesting, because Hendrix himself thought he was a bad singer, an assertion that I never agreed with.
Neil Young - Like A Hurricane
Not that Niel Young has a shortage of extended guitar jam platforms, but I've always been particularly in love with this song. Though he was known to stretch it out to impossible lengths in concert, this mainstay of his set never bores me. Well, maybe if you include his 33 minute sound collage Arc, but I don't. This song's unforgettable melody is couched in some of Young's most expressive soloing and bookended by his emotionally devastating singing. An absolute masterpiece.
Randy Holden - Fruit & Icebergs
Randy Holden recorded a version of this song with Blue Cheer on their New! Improved! album, but he was only a member of those rapidly fading sludge barons at the tail end of their initial period of greatness. Holden himslef stuck around long enough to record just one side of the record, then went off to record his incredible Population II solo debut, from which this song was taken. The album itself is a love letter to the electric guitar, an example of just how far you can go with one drummer, one supremely gifted axe-slinger, and a wall of amplifiers. This version of "Fruit & Icebergs" is done in gloriously sludgy half-time with twice the fuzz of the original. Holden's jaw-dropping excursions take 60's inspired hard rock and electric blues cliches straight into the ionosphere. You can almost hear the sweat beads running down Holden's forehead and the grimace on his face as he bends into and out of notes all over his punished fretboard. No doubt about it, the man sounds like he's digging a grave. Too bad the album didn't get released for 20 years and the record company sold his gear out from under him, kicking off Holden's 25 year exile from the music world.
Robin Trower - Bridge Of Sighs
I can't get over how rich and thick Trower's tone is on the title track from his 1974 solo album. Trower was never the fastest or most technical player, but when it came to nailing those slow, endless and liquid-smooth space-blues licks, no one has done it better save of Hendrix himself.
Sonic Youth - Hits Of Sunshine (For Allen Ginsberg)
This is actually a group guitar jam, but the song's lazy lope is the perfect place for Thurston Moore and Lee Ronaldo to slather their molten, fuzz-caked guitars all over a gently babbling river of hallucinogenic sound. Take the trip.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Devastation
So due to my recent re-discovery of The Sound Of The Beast, I've been excavating that magical 1982-1984 period in which all disparate strains of black, death, power, doom and good old fashioned classic heavy metal exploded outward, diverging with the power of an atom being split. As the shards from the initial metal detonation spurred by the New Wave of British Heavy Metal hurtled onward and upward, genres would soon become rigidly codified. Excellent and powerful music would result, but I've always had a particular fascination with this period, when the lines were still blurry and scene politics not as dogmatic. It's especially interesting to note that by 1984, the great steel lords like Saxon, Iron Maiden, Motorhead and Judas Priest and American counterparts like Manowar were all still firing on all cylinders, while most of the bands who would shape the direction of heavy metal over the next 15 plus years were already in place, either as underground tape-trading fixtures or fresh-faced fusiliers recording debut albums and playing local shows, and even a few groups of teenagers thrashing about in smokey beer-soaked practice pads.
Here is a list of some favourites, new and old, that have been getting extra spins at the altar recently.
Anvil - Metal On Metal Canadian power metal legends best known for appearing in a documentary which portrayed them as a real-life Spinal Tap. Fortunately, a new generation has re-discovered these guys, and fallen in love with ridiculous anthems like the title track and the groupie-slaying sleeze tributes "Tag Team" and "Jackhammer." The leather bondage gear and musical vibrators that were synonymous with their stage dress only adds to their perverted appeal.
Bathory - Bathory Although later they became notable for pioneering the ultra-epic micro genre of viking metal, Sweden's Bathory began life as ultra-crude Venom wannabes. I mean that in a good way. This was a vital step in the creation of black metal.
Exciter - Heavy Metal Maniac A great missing link between classic heavy metal and mid-80s thrash, this Ontario band worked much of the same ground as early Metallica, thrashing with wild-eyed abandon and displaying a love for Sabbath's heavy riffage and Motorhead's breakneck speed. For a year or two at least, these two bands were neck and neck, though these guys never really topped themselves after this. Standout track is the ultraheavy "Iron Dogs," but there isnt a weak track here. An overlooked classic.
Iron Maiden - Number Of The Beast
Not much needs to be said about this record. Iron Maiden's first record with Bruce Dickinson saw them leaving their punked-up pub-metal roots in the dust in favour of elaborate, classical compositions and fantastical (rather than macabre) lyrical themes that would define the career of one of the greatest bands of all time.
Judas Priest- Screaming For Vengence
This was Priest at their commerical peak. Touring the world with Iron Maiden in tow, the twin titans created legions of fans everywhere they went. Some of Priest's catchiest songs can be found here, with Downing and Tipton's trademark dual lead guitars carving molten chunks of sound with laser precision. Everythime I hear "You've Got Another Thing Coming" on the radio on our local classic rock stations, I always crank the volume.
Manowar - Into Glory Ride The manliest men who ever manned. Manowar would carry the flame for true heavy metal for decades, but this is one of their best efforts. In particular, "Gloves of Metal" ranks as one of the grestest fist-in-the-air, call-to-arms metal anthems of all time.
Mercyful Fate - Melissa
The arcane, mystical aura of Denmark's Mercyful Fate is matched by their highly accomplished musical feats on spellbinding compositions like "Into The Coven," "Satan's Fall" and the mesmerizing title track. Kind Diamond 's unbelieveable falsetto is in fine form here, and their phenomenoal musicianship and gothic sensibility would have a powerful influence on everyone from Metallica to Mayhem.
Metallica - Kill 'em All
Metallica kick-started a new era in metal with their heavy chugging rythms, giving birth to the thrash metal aesthetic fully formed on their debut. Unlike later albums though, this is pure, unrefined work by a band obsessed with heavy metal, with each song coming loaded by at least six or seven riffs and as many shredding guitar solos. Hetfield's vocals are a little high and screechy, but the band gets by on enthusiasm and sheer conviction. They would never sound like this again, and Kill 'em All captures a young and hungry band on the cusp of greatness.
Motorhead - Another Perfect Day
Easily the most underappreciated Motorhead album. Former Thin Lizzy guitarist Brian Robertson stopped by to inject his fluid, melodic style into the Motorhead machine, and the results have polarized fans ever since. For me, tracks like "Shine" deserve to be ranked among the very best the band had to offer, though if one were to ever categorize a Motorhead album as conventional, this would be it.
Saxon - The Power & The Glory This was Saxon's commercial peak, and great ragers like "Redline" that channeled the drive of their early biker metal roots were bolstered by the elaborate slow build of "The Eagle Has Landed." Things were getting slicker production-wise for them, but on this album, and to a lesser extent 1984's Crusader, Saxon still ranked among the best that Britain had to offer.
Slayer - Show No Mercy Dave Lombaro's shockingly fast drumming and the ultra-evil imagery of Tom Arya's psychotic screams distinguished Slayer very early on. Unlike other speedfreaks like D.R.I. or C.O.C. Slayer was equally interested in the technically accomplisehed tendencies of classic heavy metal. Their chops were raw, but song structures were not being simplified, simply sped up to vaporization speed while still retaining the instrumental breaks and complex bridges. A radical and extremely influential debut.
Venom - At War With Satan
The final of Venom's essential proto-black metal template-setting albums, At War With Satan's epic title track is effectively metal's answer to Milton's Paradise Lost. This is far from the basement-value ineptitude of Welcome To Hell. Here, they prefigure all the baroque tendencies that some angry scandanavian teenagers would ride to infamy in the coming decade.
Warlock - Burn The Witches Germany's Warlock did a raw, energetic take on power metal with a thrashy edge, and threw the soaring vocals of metal-goddess Doro over top. The effect is all shredding, wailing guitars, flying hair and relentless drumming crystalized into pure unadulterated heavy metal.
Here is a list of some favourites, new and old, that have been getting extra spins at the altar recently.
Anvil - Metal On Metal Canadian power metal legends best known for appearing in a documentary which portrayed them as a real-life Spinal Tap. Fortunately, a new generation has re-discovered these guys, and fallen in love with ridiculous anthems like the title track and the groupie-slaying sleeze tributes "Tag Team" and "Jackhammer." The leather bondage gear and musical vibrators that were synonymous with their stage dress only adds to their perverted appeal.
Bathory - Bathory Although later they became notable for pioneering the ultra-epic micro genre of viking metal, Sweden's Bathory began life as ultra-crude Venom wannabes. I mean that in a good way. This was a vital step in the creation of black metal.
Exciter - Heavy Metal Maniac A great missing link between classic heavy metal and mid-80s thrash, this Ontario band worked much of the same ground as early Metallica, thrashing with wild-eyed abandon and displaying a love for Sabbath's heavy riffage and Motorhead's breakneck speed. For a year or two at least, these two bands were neck and neck, though these guys never really topped themselves after this. Standout track is the ultraheavy "Iron Dogs," but there isnt a weak track here. An overlooked classic.
Iron Maiden - Number Of The Beast
Not much needs to be said about this record. Iron Maiden's first record with Bruce Dickinson saw them leaving their punked-up pub-metal roots in the dust in favour of elaborate, classical compositions and fantastical (rather than macabre) lyrical themes that would define the career of one of the greatest bands of all time.
Judas Priest- Screaming For Vengence
This was Priest at their commerical peak. Touring the world with Iron Maiden in tow, the twin titans created legions of fans everywhere they went. Some of Priest's catchiest songs can be found here, with Downing and Tipton's trademark dual lead guitars carving molten chunks of sound with laser precision. Everythime I hear "You've Got Another Thing Coming" on the radio on our local classic rock stations, I always crank the volume.
Manowar - Into Glory Ride The manliest men who ever manned. Manowar would carry the flame for true heavy metal for decades, but this is one of their best efforts. In particular, "Gloves of Metal" ranks as one of the grestest fist-in-the-air, call-to-arms metal anthems of all time.
Mercyful Fate - Melissa
The arcane, mystical aura of Denmark's Mercyful Fate is matched by their highly accomplished musical feats on spellbinding compositions like "Into The Coven," "Satan's Fall" and the mesmerizing title track. Kind Diamond 's unbelieveable falsetto is in fine form here, and their phenomenoal musicianship and gothic sensibility would have a powerful influence on everyone from Metallica to Mayhem.
Metallica - Kill 'em All
Metallica kick-started a new era in metal with their heavy chugging rythms, giving birth to the thrash metal aesthetic fully formed on their debut. Unlike later albums though, this is pure, unrefined work by a band obsessed with heavy metal, with each song coming loaded by at least six or seven riffs and as many shredding guitar solos. Hetfield's vocals are a little high and screechy, but the band gets by on enthusiasm and sheer conviction. They would never sound like this again, and Kill 'em All captures a young and hungry band on the cusp of greatness.
Motorhead - Another Perfect Day
Easily the most underappreciated Motorhead album. Former Thin Lizzy guitarist Brian Robertson stopped by to inject his fluid, melodic style into the Motorhead machine, and the results have polarized fans ever since. For me, tracks like "Shine" deserve to be ranked among the very best the band had to offer, though if one were to ever categorize a Motorhead album as conventional, this would be it.
Saxon - The Power & The Glory This was Saxon's commercial peak, and great ragers like "Redline" that channeled the drive of their early biker metal roots were bolstered by the elaborate slow build of "The Eagle Has Landed." Things were getting slicker production-wise for them, but on this album, and to a lesser extent 1984's Crusader, Saxon still ranked among the best that Britain had to offer.
Slayer - Show No Mercy Dave Lombaro's shockingly fast drumming and the ultra-evil imagery of Tom Arya's psychotic screams distinguished Slayer very early on. Unlike other speedfreaks like D.R.I. or C.O.C. Slayer was equally interested in the technically accomplisehed tendencies of classic heavy metal. Their chops were raw, but song structures were not being simplified, simply sped up to vaporization speed while still retaining the instrumental breaks and complex bridges. A radical and extremely influential debut.
Venom - At War With Satan
The final of Venom's essential proto-black metal template-setting albums, At War With Satan's epic title track is effectively metal's answer to Milton's Paradise Lost. This is far from the basement-value ineptitude of Welcome To Hell. Here, they prefigure all the baroque tendencies that some angry scandanavian teenagers would ride to infamy in the coming decade.
Warlock - Burn The Witches Germany's Warlock did a raw, energetic take on power metal with a thrashy edge, and threw the soaring vocals of metal-goddess Doro over top. The effect is all shredding, wailing guitars, flying hair and relentless drumming crystalized into pure unadulterated heavy metal.
Molten
I've been reading Ian Christe's truly excellent book, The Sound of the Beast: The Complete Headbanging History of Heavy Metal. It's been a favourite of mine for years, and since I have little new reading material at the moment I decided to dig back into it and read it cover to cover. Christe's truly astonishing depth of knowledge and knowing smirk shine through his well-constructed narrative of the history of heavy music from its inception in the late 60's up until its publishing date in 2002. Anyone with an interest in metal or rock music should read this book, which also contains a series of handy genre guides listing essential recordings in all styles of metal.
Christe also curates and contributes to a fantastic blog at Bazillion Points Publishers which speciallizes in metal-related books, films and food. They have a particularly great collection of obscure metal demos from all manner of underground (and sometimes above-ground) bands. Check it out for an unholy collection of all manner of grimy,dungeon-production thrash, death, black and power metal filth by teenagers who can barely play their instruments. In other words, its fucking awesome.
Christe also curates and contributes to a fantastic blog at Bazillion Points Publishers which speciallizes in metal-related books, films and food. They have a particularly great collection of obscure metal demos from all manner of underground (and sometimes above-ground) bands. Check it out for an unholy collection of all manner of grimy,dungeon-production thrash, death, black and power metal filth by teenagers who can barely play their instruments. In other words, its fucking awesome.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Anchor
So I recently got a job at a local radio station, which is part of the reason the updates have been fewer and farther in between for the last month and a half. Although it started as a promotions gig, (set-up for remote broadcasts, appearances at public events, handing out free stuff and calling contest winners etc.) I've just this past week started to branch out. On Thursday and Friday I took part in the launch of a new top 40 music station, SoNIC 104.9FM and got to operate the board for a few hours. If you're reading this blog, chances are you won't like the music, just like I don't, but a job is a job. Today, I've been thrown into the fire so to speak, as I've been giving updates on-air for NEWS 1130 from Vancouver's 101st summer fair, the PNE. I think it's gone pretty well, in fact I'm writing this update in between cut-ins. So yeah, I have a cool new job, it's going well, and I'm making inroads to a real career. I'll be starting the world-class Radio Broadcast program at BCIT in a few weeks, and I'm already getting paid to go on-air at a major radio station in one of the three largest media markets in Canada. So life is going well.
Honestly, I do have reservations about being part of the machine. Rogers Communications, who owns the stations I work for, is one of the largest companies in Canada. Moreover, the radio business is cutthroat, and I've already seen collegues of mine get terminated in purely bottom-line decisions. I've made my dissatisfaction with how radio has served music for the last few decades clear in this here blog previously, so there is no need to get into that here. That being said, if I can make a living talking into a microphone about my two greatest passions, music and sports, I think I could live with that. And maybe, just maybe, I can make some changes for the better from the inside. Okay, maybe that's a long shot. Clearly, some day I'm gonna have to set up my own pirate radio station, purely for the love of music. Someone has to play Captain Beyond and Sir Lord Baltimore. Keep on rocking everyone.
Honestly, I do have reservations about being part of the machine. Rogers Communications, who owns the stations I work for, is one of the largest companies in Canada. Moreover, the radio business is cutthroat, and I've already seen collegues of mine get terminated in purely bottom-line decisions. I've made my dissatisfaction with how radio has served music for the last few decades clear in this here blog previously, so there is no need to get into that here. That being said, if I can make a living talking into a microphone about my two greatest passions, music and sports, I think I could live with that. And maybe, just maybe, I can make some changes for the better from the inside. Okay, maybe that's a long shot. Clearly, some day I'm gonna have to set up my own pirate radio station, purely for the love of music. Someone has to play Captain Beyond and Sir Lord Baltimore. Keep on rocking everyone.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Red Fang - Murder The Mountains
Band: Red Fang
Album: Murder The Mountains
Label: Relapse
Year: 2011
Oregon's Red Fang first got my attention a few years back when their LARPing-themed music video for the excellent "Prehistoric Dog"single made the rounds on the internet. The EP which contained that devastating track, as well as an earlier one, were promising releases by a good heavy rock band on their way up, but did not match the awesomeness of their shining moment. Still, it was enough to get them signed to Relapse, and high expectations have followed. With their new full-length Murder the Mountains now available to the world, its time to see if these guys really have what it takes to deliver the goods.
I'm happy to report that Red Fang has ripped out one of the most enjoyable rock records of 2011, tinkering with their basic formula just enough to demonstrate real musical growth while playing to the group's strengths and laying down a pounding assault that does keg stands on your ear drums. They've even been kind enough to make another, equally hilarious music video for their single, the massively overdriven twin-lead guitar collossus "Wired." Working strictly from a palette of exclusively fuzz-guitar abusing 70's van music by way of late 80's and early 90's grunge and alternative rock, Red Fang do not dress their music up with psychedelic flourishes or progressive instrumental pyrotechnics. Everything here sounds lean, hard and powerful. The performances have a live feel to them that sounds as natural as practice pad jam session. It's just that the musicians are good enough and their material interesting enough so as to give a professional polish to the band's rampaging assault.
Although they play up the image of beer guzzling dirtbags in their videos, these guys clearly care about the craft of music. Their tight, well-arranged brand of stoner rock is beyond the grasp of most garden variety pot heads, even if they are too enamoured by a half with some of their influences. In particular, sludge trudges like "Malverde" betray a Melvins influence so obvious that they wouldn't sound out of place on Stoner Witch. More often however, the band's ability to shift tempos and cadences, not to mention building to powerful eruptions of guitar/bass,/drums brings some much-needed variety to their previously vanilla hard rock. When they put the elements together, as on the fucking killer "Dirt Wizard," Red Fang prove themselves to be capable of great things. Now all that remains is for them to further refine their vision.
The record sounds great, and the association with Relapse is notable in that Murder the Mountains sounds as if it had some money backing it. Chris Funk gives the band a slick sheen that retains much of the rawness inherent in their sound, allowing them to be both clear and heavy. Some prospective rock fans might be turned off by what they feel is a radio-friendly mix, but honestly I think Relapse is smart enough to know radio won't touch a band like Red Fang anyways. If their straightforward approach alienates a few metalheads by being a little too 'middle of the road' for some, most music fans who can appreciate a great riff, powerful vocal hook or crushing groove will find much to like here.
Album: Murder The Mountains
Label: Relapse
Year: 2011
Oregon's Red Fang first got my attention a few years back when their LARPing-themed music video for the excellent "Prehistoric Dog"single made the rounds on the internet. The EP which contained that devastating track, as well as an earlier one, were promising releases by a good heavy rock band on their way up, but did not match the awesomeness of their shining moment. Still, it was enough to get them signed to Relapse, and high expectations have followed. With their new full-length Murder the Mountains now available to the world, its time to see if these guys really have what it takes to deliver the goods.
I'm happy to report that Red Fang has ripped out one of the most enjoyable rock records of 2011, tinkering with their basic formula just enough to demonstrate real musical growth while playing to the group's strengths and laying down a pounding assault that does keg stands on your ear drums. They've even been kind enough to make another, equally hilarious music video for their single, the massively overdriven twin-lead guitar collossus "Wired." Working strictly from a palette of exclusively fuzz-guitar abusing 70's van music by way of late 80's and early 90's grunge and alternative rock, Red Fang do not dress their music up with psychedelic flourishes or progressive instrumental pyrotechnics. Everything here sounds lean, hard and powerful. The performances have a live feel to them that sounds as natural as practice pad jam session. It's just that the musicians are good enough and their material interesting enough so as to give a professional polish to the band's rampaging assault.
Although they play up the image of beer guzzling dirtbags in their videos, these guys clearly care about the craft of music. Their tight, well-arranged brand of stoner rock is beyond the grasp of most garden variety pot heads, even if they are too enamoured by a half with some of their influences. In particular, sludge trudges like "Malverde" betray a Melvins influence so obvious that they wouldn't sound out of place on Stoner Witch. More often however, the band's ability to shift tempos and cadences, not to mention building to powerful eruptions of guitar/bass,/drums brings some much-needed variety to their previously vanilla hard rock. When they put the elements together, as on the fucking killer "Dirt Wizard," Red Fang prove themselves to be capable of great things. Now all that remains is for them to further refine their vision.
The record sounds great, and the association with Relapse is notable in that Murder the Mountains sounds as if it had some money backing it. Chris Funk gives the band a slick sheen that retains much of the rawness inherent in their sound, allowing them to be both clear and heavy. Some prospective rock fans might be turned off by what they feel is a radio-friendly mix, but honestly I think Relapse is smart enough to know radio won't touch a band like Red Fang anyways. If their straightforward approach alienates a few metalheads by being a little too 'middle of the road' for some, most music fans who can appreciate a great riff, powerful vocal hook or crushing groove will find much to like here.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Stupid
"(The Norwegian massacre) is nothing compared to what happens in McDonalds and Kentucky Fried shit every day" - Morrissey
I fucking hate that guy.
I fucking hate that guy.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Econo
Record collecting is an expensive hobby. Anyone who has ever paid good money for a record that didn't deliver the goods, or was forced to swallow a hefty price tag to take home that special limited edition knows what I'm talking about. But not every record that is worth owning has to cost an arm and a leg. Either due to over-saturation of the marketplace or perceived musical mediocrity, the following records can easily be found in your local used section for a handful of change each. Some of these are worth having for a song or two, and others are solid albums throughout. In any event, picking up one of these classic rock staples won't break the bank, and all will make a solid addition to any rock fan's collection.
Alice Cooper, Killer, (1971) - Alice Cooper (the band) released this collection of vicious motor city glam rock on the heels of their Love It To Death breakthrough. It's not totally flawless, but solid, sleazy rockers like "Under My Wheels," "Be My Lover" and 'You Drive Me Nervous" are as tough and immediate as anything in the catalog, while "Dead Babies" was a live favourite at the time. I suppose the absence of a big hit along the lines of "School's Out" or "I'm Eighteen" is the reason that this record is so easy to find second-hand, even though it was released smack dab in the middle of the band's 1970-1973 peak. This run ended with the very good Billion Dollar Babies, a bargain-bin staple as well.
Blue Öyster Cult, Tyranny & Mutation, (1973) - For some reason the first three BOC records (recognizable by their black and white covers) are always in the bargain bin. These are the best records the band ever made. On these tight, heavy and well-arranged records, Blue Öyster Cult established themselves as one of the only American proto-metal bands capable of going toe-to-toe with the mighty British arena lords that dominated heavy rock in the mid '70s. Tyranny & Mutation sports some of the band's true classics, opening with the one-two punch of "The Red and The Black" and "OD'ed on Life Itself." There isn't a weak track on the album, and "Seven Screaming Diz-Busters" perhaps best exemplifies how these brainy bruisers could marry a heavy gut-punch attack to complex musicianship.
Creedence Clearwater Revival, Cosmo's Factory, (1970) - No question this is the best CCR record. Hot, swampy rock n' roll has never been done any better. It opens with one of their gnarliest jams in "Ramble Tamble" and about two thirds of the songs are staples on the various greatest hits compilations that exist.
Deep Purple, Burn, (1974) - Burn was Deep Purple's first record after the departure of Ian Gillan and Roger Glover, but it was actually a better album than almost anyone could have expected. The title track is a phenomenal six-minute assault featuring scorching guitar and organ work by the band's two powerful lead voices, John Lord and Richie Blackmore. For that song alone it is worth owning. New singer David Coverdale gives a solid performance to boot, and there are plenty of other worthwile rockers here.
Jethro Tull, Benefit, (1970) - I bought this purely because it contained the leslie-damaged prog-rocker "To Cry You A Song." The rest is a great representation of Tull's complex amalgamation of heavy space-folk-blues. To be honest, these guys have a lot of overlooked records, and if you are a fan of one, its a safe bet you'll like plenty more. The 1970-1975 period is all good, and intermittently they have good songs and records before and after that.
Lynyrd Skynyrd, Street Survivors, (1977) - Street Survivors was released just a few days before the tragic plane crash which killed singer Ronnie Van Zandt and guitarist Steve Gaines. Its been hard to overlook that grim fact when listening to the album, the band's darkest. "That Smell" in particular reeks of death and foreboding. Meanwhile, "What's Your Name" is still in frequent rotation on classic rock stations. The definitive southern rock band, no one ever combined crunching arena-rock dynamics with countified outlaw swagger like these boys did, and this record is one of their best. There is plenty of heavy boogie to be found within these grooves, as Skynyrd came up with its best batch of songs since their breakthrough record, Second Helping. It might not have been intended as a farewell to the classic lineup, but it still makes for one hell of a memorial.
Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Re-ac-tor (1981) - The early '80s is usually thought of as a fallow period for Neil creatively, as his musical muse frequently took a back seat to various personal, legal and political concerns. Still, the man and his iconic backing band were just two years removed from their astonishing Rust Never Sleeps album and tour, and its not as though they forgot how to play in that time. Crazy Horse's trademark troglodyte stomp is all over Re-ac-tor, and Young wails on his guitar throughout, seemingly in love with coaxing as many different sounds as possible out of his instrument. The album does suffer from a lack of melodic inspiration and some rather stupid songwriting (The nine-minute "T-Bone" is by far the worst offender) but "Shots" is one of Young's best jams with Crazy Horse. To those who don't care for Young's country and folk inclinations, this should be right up your alley; the whole album is packed with lumbering, shambolic hard rock. Re-ac-tor is not a first-rate Neil Young record by any means, but if you can pick it up for a few bucks you won't be disappointed.
Pink Floyd, Obscured By Clouds, (1972) - Obscured By Clouds, like Music From the Film: More, is a soundtrack to a movie I have never seen. It is an often-overlooked entry in Floyd's intimidating discography, particularly because it happened to precede Dark Side of The Moon, and is rarely mentioned today. Despite, or perhaps because of this, its always been one of my favourite entries. From the fuzzy organ drones that open the record to the ethereal vocal chants which close it, Obscured By Clouds is a compelling example of the powerful cinematic quality and pristine sound of the band's best work.
Robin Trower, For Earth Below, (1975) - Although it lacks any of the standout tracks which marked Trower's breakthrough record, Bridge of Sighs, For Earth Below is probably the next-best effort in his whole discography. Highlighting Trower's smooth, liquid virtuosity and adding a subtle funkiness to the arrangements, the songs on here are solid throughout. Personally I'll be far more likely to throw this one than any other Trower album on and listen to it front to back. The first side is particularly strong, with "Shame The Devil" and the title track illustrating the gorgeous colours with which Trower loved to paint his sound creations.
Rush, Caress Of Steel, (1975) - Rush's fantastical 12-minute sorcery rock epic "The Necromancer" is itself worth the price of admission. The multi-part suite goes from virtual silence to screaming lead guitar breaks and heavy-death grip riffs and finally to a triumphant finale, telling throughout a tale of adventure which would do Tolkien proud. That magnificent song notwithstanding, "Lakeside Park" and "Bastille Day" are upbeat rockers that rank easily with the best of early-period Rush's work, though "I'm Going Bald" is too silly for its own good. Side 2's "The Fountain of Lamenth" is the band's first stab at a sidelong composition, and it does have its share of interesting moments which includes some particularly excellent bass playing by Geddy Lee. Caress of Steel is easily the best of the first three Rush albums.
ZZ Top, Fandango! (1975) - One half studio, one half live, and all great. The live material features a storming take on Elvis' "Jailhouse Rock," while the studio side is a worthy followup to Tres Hombres. In particular, the John Lee Hooker boogie of "Tush" would go on to become one of the band's most enduring and recognizable songs. After Tres Hombres and Eliminator, this is the record that all ZZ Top fans should own.
Alice Cooper, Killer, (1971) - Alice Cooper (the band) released this collection of vicious motor city glam rock on the heels of their Love It To Death breakthrough. It's not totally flawless, but solid, sleazy rockers like "Under My Wheels," "Be My Lover" and 'You Drive Me Nervous" are as tough and immediate as anything in the catalog, while "Dead Babies" was a live favourite at the time. I suppose the absence of a big hit along the lines of "School's Out" or "I'm Eighteen" is the reason that this record is so easy to find second-hand, even though it was released smack dab in the middle of the band's 1970-1973 peak. This run ended with the very good Billion Dollar Babies, a bargain-bin staple as well.
Blue Öyster Cult, Tyranny & Mutation, (1973) - For some reason the first three BOC records (recognizable by their black and white covers) are always in the bargain bin. These are the best records the band ever made. On these tight, heavy and well-arranged records, Blue Öyster Cult established themselves as one of the only American proto-metal bands capable of going toe-to-toe with the mighty British arena lords that dominated heavy rock in the mid '70s. Tyranny & Mutation sports some of the band's true classics, opening with the one-two punch of "The Red and The Black" and "OD'ed on Life Itself." There isn't a weak track on the album, and "Seven Screaming Diz-Busters" perhaps best exemplifies how these brainy bruisers could marry a heavy gut-punch attack to complex musicianship.
Creedence Clearwater Revival, Cosmo's Factory, (1970) - No question this is the best CCR record. Hot, swampy rock n' roll has never been done any better. It opens with one of their gnarliest jams in "Ramble Tamble" and about two thirds of the songs are staples on the various greatest hits compilations that exist.
Deep Purple, Burn, (1974) - Burn was Deep Purple's first record after the departure of Ian Gillan and Roger Glover, but it was actually a better album than almost anyone could have expected. The title track is a phenomenal six-minute assault featuring scorching guitar and organ work by the band's two powerful lead voices, John Lord and Richie Blackmore. For that song alone it is worth owning. New singer David Coverdale gives a solid performance to boot, and there are plenty of other worthwile rockers here.
Jethro Tull, Benefit, (1970) - I bought this purely because it contained the leslie-damaged prog-rocker "To Cry You A Song." The rest is a great representation of Tull's complex amalgamation of heavy space-folk-blues. To be honest, these guys have a lot of overlooked records, and if you are a fan of one, its a safe bet you'll like plenty more. The 1970-1975 period is all good, and intermittently they have good songs and records before and after that.
Lynyrd Skynyrd, Street Survivors, (1977) - Street Survivors was released just a few days before the tragic plane crash which killed singer Ronnie Van Zandt and guitarist Steve Gaines. Its been hard to overlook that grim fact when listening to the album, the band's darkest. "That Smell" in particular reeks of death and foreboding. Meanwhile, "What's Your Name" is still in frequent rotation on classic rock stations. The definitive southern rock band, no one ever combined crunching arena-rock dynamics with countified outlaw swagger like these boys did, and this record is one of their best. There is plenty of heavy boogie to be found within these grooves, as Skynyrd came up with its best batch of songs since their breakthrough record, Second Helping. It might not have been intended as a farewell to the classic lineup, but it still makes for one hell of a memorial.
Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Re-ac-tor (1981) - The early '80s is usually thought of as a fallow period for Neil creatively, as his musical muse frequently took a back seat to various personal, legal and political concerns. Still, the man and his iconic backing band were just two years removed from their astonishing Rust Never Sleeps album and tour, and its not as though they forgot how to play in that time. Crazy Horse's trademark troglodyte stomp is all over Re-ac-tor, and Young wails on his guitar throughout, seemingly in love with coaxing as many different sounds as possible out of his instrument. The album does suffer from a lack of melodic inspiration and some rather stupid songwriting (The nine-minute "T-Bone" is by far the worst offender) but "Shots" is one of Young's best jams with Crazy Horse. To those who don't care for Young's country and folk inclinations, this should be right up your alley; the whole album is packed with lumbering, shambolic hard rock. Re-ac-tor is not a first-rate Neil Young record by any means, but if you can pick it up for a few bucks you won't be disappointed.
Pink Floyd, Obscured By Clouds, (1972) - Obscured By Clouds, like Music From the Film: More, is a soundtrack to a movie I have never seen. It is an often-overlooked entry in Floyd's intimidating discography, particularly because it happened to precede Dark Side of The Moon, and is rarely mentioned today. Despite, or perhaps because of this, its always been one of my favourite entries. From the fuzzy organ drones that open the record to the ethereal vocal chants which close it, Obscured By Clouds is a compelling example of the powerful cinematic quality and pristine sound of the band's best work.
Robin Trower, For Earth Below, (1975) - Although it lacks any of the standout tracks which marked Trower's breakthrough record, Bridge of Sighs, For Earth Below is probably the next-best effort in his whole discography. Highlighting Trower's smooth, liquid virtuosity and adding a subtle funkiness to the arrangements, the songs on here are solid throughout. Personally I'll be far more likely to throw this one than any other Trower album on and listen to it front to back. The first side is particularly strong, with "Shame The Devil" and the title track illustrating the gorgeous colours with which Trower loved to paint his sound creations.
Rush, Caress Of Steel, (1975) - Rush's fantastical 12-minute sorcery rock epic "The Necromancer" is itself worth the price of admission. The multi-part suite goes from virtual silence to screaming lead guitar breaks and heavy-death grip riffs and finally to a triumphant finale, telling throughout a tale of adventure which would do Tolkien proud. That magnificent song notwithstanding, "Lakeside Park" and "Bastille Day" are upbeat rockers that rank easily with the best of early-period Rush's work, though "I'm Going Bald" is too silly for its own good. Side 2's "The Fountain of Lamenth" is the band's first stab at a sidelong composition, and it does have its share of interesting moments which includes some particularly excellent bass playing by Geddy Lee. Caress of Steel is easily the best of the first three Rush albums.
ZZ Top, Fandango! (1975) - One half studio, one half live, and all great. The live material features a storming take on Elvis' "Jailhouse Rock," while the studio side is a worthy followup to Tres Hombres. In particular, the John Lee Hooker boogie of "Tush" would go on to become one of the band's most enduring and recognizable songs. After Tres Hombres and Eliminator, this is the record that all ZZ Top fans should own.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Wishbone Ash - Wishbone Four
Band: Wishbone Ash
Album: Wishbone Four
Label: MCA
Year: 1973
Wishbone Ash's stately amalgamation of folk, jazz, rock and progressive tendencies is vividly displayed on their most concise and direct album. Wishbone Four was their attempt to crack the North American market after establishing themselves in the first class of British rock bands with their previous album Argus. As such, it was suitably their hardest rocking effort, relatively free of Argus's pastoral English folk influence and progressive arrangements, as well as dialing back the medieval lyrical themes somewhat. Each side kicks off with a full tilt rocker, followed by a moody slow-builder that climaxes with a dramatic lead guitar section. "So Many Things To Say" and "The Doctor" both showcase the band's complex musical interplay while hitting as hard as any songs in the band's repertoire. The band's facility with melodic guitar solos is the focus on these songs, with lead guitars dueling aggressively over a dextrous rhythm section. "Ballad of the Beacon" is a lovely melodic rocker that climaxes with a memorable solo, as does "Sorrel", where all four musicians rock expressively in a mellow jam. "No Easy Road" is another compelling rave-up that even features a classic early '70s Stones-style horn and piano rocker arrangement. There are solid songs throughout the record, and in particular "Rock & Roll Widow" is a lilting outlaw tale featuring ethereal slide guitar, and also delivers the album's most memorable hook.
Drummer Steve Upton throughout demonstrates great range in moods as he hammers together a complex structure for his bandmates in a manner akin to Bill Bruford, but he can also call to mind Keith Moon's unsophisticated intensity with his heavy tom rolls. Bassist Martin Turner alternates nimble bass patterns in the higher registers of his instrument with slow, supportive beds for the guitarists to solo over. The vocals consist predominantly of appealing harmonies and lyrics that seem to conjure up memories of some fantastical past age that never existed. They do not ever really get heavy, but the highly melodic lead guitar interplay between Ted Turner and Andy Powell is the chief appeal of this band.
There are a few missteps, as the ballads on each side come off as slightly saccharine and tend to bore. "Everybody Needs A Friend" in particular is notable for being way too long at almost 9 minutes. This one glaring flaw aside, these songs are all well-crafted, highly formal compositions. With commercial concerns clearly in mind, Wishbone Four features the clearest production of any of the band's albums up until that point. Moreover, its constituent parts are more comfortably rock rather than folk or progressive-based as on their earlier records. The guitarists use a wider variety of effects than on previous albums, with more aggressively overdriven distortion and liberal use of the wah-pedal replacing the neo-classical flourishes of Argus. The combination of solid compositions and impressive musicianship makes this a solid entry point into the band's discography.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Playlist
New Music For Old People (aka the new classic rock)
White Stripes - Hello Operator
Hives - Hate To Say I Told You So
Modey Lemon - Feed The Babies
Black Lips - Hippie Hippie Hooray!
The Mooney Suzuki - In A Young Man's Mind
Black Keys - 10AM Automatic
Brian Jonestown Massacre - Open Heart Sugery
My Morning Jacket - One Big Holiday
Magnolia Electric Co. - Dark Don't Hide It
Nebula - Atomic Ritual
Comets On Fire - Pussy Foot The Duke
Black Mountain - Don't Run Our Hearts Around
Dead Meadow - At Her Open Door
Witchcraft - It's So Easy
Wolfmother - Where Eagles Have Been
The Sword - Freya
Witch - The Seer
Litmus - Rays Of Sonic Light
Earthless - Cherry Red
Awesome Color - Transparent
Thee Oh Sees - Ruby
Wino - Release Me
Priestess - Lay Down
Ladyhawk - I Don't Always Know What You're Saying
Red Cedar - Take It Back
Woods - Rain On
Astra - Ouroboros
I made this partially because I hate it when people say, "there's no good music anymore," or "music was way better in...(whatever time music was way better)." More importantly, I made this for my Dad. He's been surprising me lately. He's discovered Youtube since retiring and is getting onto all kinds of old bands he missed out on. He wanted to know about Motorhead the other day! I figured it'd be a while yet before he got to anything made in this decade unless I gave him some help.
White Stripes - Hello Operator
Hives - Hate To Say I Told You So
Modey Lemon - Feed The Babies
Black Lips - Hippie Hippie Hooray!
The Mooney Suzuki - In A Young Man's Mind
Black Keys - 10AM Automatic
Brian Jonestown Massacre - Open Heart Sugery
My Morning Jacket - One Big Holiday
Magnolia Electric Co. - Dark Don't Hide It
Nebula - Atomic Ritual
Comets On Fire - Pussy Foot The Duke
Black Mountain - Don't Run Our Hearts Around
Dead Meadow - At Her Open Door
Witchcraft - It's So Easy
Wolfmother - Where Eagles Have Been
The Sword - Freya
Witch - The Seer
Litmus - Rays Of Sonic Light
Earthless - Cherry Red
Awesome Color - Transparent
Thee Oh Sees - Ruby
Wino - Release Me
Priestess - Lay Down
Ladyhawk - I Don't Always Know What You're Saying
Red Cedar - Take It Back
Woods - Rain On
Astra - Ouroboros
I made this partially because I hate it when people say, "there's no good music anymore," or "music was way better in...(whatever time music was way better)." More importantly, I made this for my Dad. He's been surprising me lately. He's discovered Youtube since retiring and is getting onto all kinds of old bands he missed out on. He wanted to know about Motorhead the other day! I figured it'd be a while yet before he got to anything made in this decade unless I gave him some help.
Recap
So I'm back from Calgary's second annual Sled Island music festival. Due to lack of funds, I was only able to purchase a single-day wristband instead of staying for the whole event. What a trip it was though... I suppose I'll just recap the whole thing from the beginning. If you just we want to get to the bands I saw, skip ahead about three paragraphs, most of this is narrative for my own benefit.
I left on a bus at 12:30 on Wednesday night, a mode of transportation that guarantees a healthy mix of itinerant labourers, homeless alcoholics and haggard-looking teen moms. Somehow I managed to stay sane over the 18 hour journey, though I suppose I owe my survival to a mix of Irvine Welsh's novel Porno and a contraband bottle of rye. Arriving Thursday evening, I immediately had to orient myself in a city I haven't visited since I was 12. Luckily, with typical Albertan pragmatism, Calgary is laid out in a grid system with numbered streets and avenues and divided into quadrants. Without too much trouble I was able to meet up with my good friend Noah the White, and negotiate access to a show he was doing sound for as his assistant.
The fact that the band playing was none other than my dear friends Red Cedar did not hurt my chances at getting in. The Vancouver boys gave a typically strong performance to a rather sparse crowd, with their hazy roots-rock shuffles and rustic country twang going over well with the locals. The performance was somewhat subdued by their standards, but it fit the intimate room they played in and the relaxed atmosphere of a beautiful summer evening. Lead guitarist J.P. Doucet ripped out his gritty Neil Young-isms over a gorgeous bed of Leslie organ laid down by Bruce Ledingham. Their sunny, expansive jams were a perfect antidote to a long trip in a sweaty, confined bus. The group's harmonies were as tight and tuneful as I have yet heard, although gonzo drummer Colin Jones didn't wield the mighty hammer of Thor quite so heavily as I am accustomed to seeing him do. I suppose his trademark thunderblitzes would not have fit the mood of this particularly quixotic evening, but I am looking forward to seeing them make a triumphant return to Vancouver's finest venue, the Biltmore. That place always seems to bring out the heaviness in those boys. They are in the middle of a tour of Western Canada right now, getting tight and road-tested like all good bands must. Look for a new record from them some time this year.
The Cedar boys and I adjourned to our hotel room to drop off gear after the show.They were kind enough to let my crash there for free... their room at the Fairmont was being sprung for by none other than mister Chad Kroeger's 604 records. They were being paid to back an artist on that labels roster for a few shows at the festival, and a posh hotel was part of the deal. We were sure to raid the minibar. An unexpected bonus was the fact that many other musicians were staying in the same hotel, so I enjoyed chance encounters various musicians throughout our stay. Although my buddies were out to party, I was too exhausted to do much. I spent a little while walking around the city on my own to get familiar with my surroundings and picked up a case of beer, from which I proceeded to donate refreshments to a couple thirsty members of Oakland fuzz rockers Drunk Horse as they hung out in the lobby. I also managed to make a fool out of myself by accosting Lee Ronaldo on the street. I rarely get star-struck, but he's just so freaking cool. I probably could have reunited with my buddies in Red Cedar and joined them in getting trashed with members of the defunct Vancouver bong-thrashers Bogus Tokus who had curated the festival, as well as Matt Pike and Al Cisneros of Sleep, (and High On Fire and Om respectively) who happen to be two of my personal heroes. But instead I showered and went to bed. Drag.
Friday morning saw us longhairs out in the hotel in force. We were harassed by security for taking advantage of the spa options available to us. Bunch of dirtbags we are!
Ah yes, the shows. We began with a workshop on unconventional guitar techniques led by Sonic Youth godhead Lee Ronaldo at an art speace down town. I suppose if you spend decades dedicating your life to expanding the vocabulary of an instrument you'll pick up a few tricks along the way, but what I witnessed was still astonishing. He began by playing some videos of various performances, then proceeded to unleash a 25 minute storm of sound that peeled paint from the walls, all the while never fretting a single note. Here is an example of the kind of stuff he was doing. It simply consisted of him exploring the properties of the instrument in every way except playing it normally. He bowed the strings, hit it body with his fists, played cell phone messages through the pickups, created feedback loops and fed everything through an array of warping devices only he could comprehend, the whole time coaxing unimaginable sounds from his instrument. It was a magnificent performance from one of the instrument's most idiosyncratic and daring practitioners.
Across town we dropped into a pub so crowded I could only stand in the doorway with the stage out of my line of sight. Fortunately, Dead Meadow are loud enough that I could have heard them playing from the Saddledome. The power trio's heady stomp can transport listeners to fantasy realms like few else, and guitarist Jason Simon is the wah-pedal's foremost practitioner today. Dude uses two... don't ask me why. Steve Kille meanwhile worked his bass aggressively in and out of Simon's clouds of sound, but was always right there when it was time to hammer the riff home. People have referred to their sound as being similar to shoegaze, and though their dense wall of fuzz owes much to volume abusers like the Spacemen 3 and My Bloody Valentine Dead Meadow's jams are too hot and aggressively psychedelic to sink into stoned lethargy, despite what the band's detractor's often claim. The many layers of sound that the listener must penetrate are a sonic signifier for the band, but the musicianship here is top notch. Simon and Kille are master jammers, constantly exploring every colour suggested by their deceptively simple phrases and while pummeling the heaviest of riffs. They did a set loaded with old favourites, probably because they've recently been rejoined by original drummer Mark McLaughlin, and were in peak form throughout. Those guys bring it on stage all the time, every time.
I saw C'mon later in the afternoon on the main stage, and though I am not familiar with them, I was impressed. The power trio did a raging take on biker rock that served as a good accompaniment for beers in the afternoon. They were raw, powerful and sludgy, although perhaps they betrayed a bit of a lack of melodic inspiration. The songs did become samey after a while, but their set was short, powerful and enjoyable, ending before there was time for monotony to become apparent. A good, rockin' take on hard boogie that is seldom re-visited in this day and age.
Vancouver metal gods Bison hit the stage to entertain a small but enthusiastic crowd that happily lapped up the band's sludgy thrash. As usual, this band proved themselves a force of nature onstage, and is truly in a league with any metal band going right now. This is my first time seeing them since they got a new drummer, (they remain on friendly terms with the original skin-basher, who could be seen happily watching the set from the side of the stage) and there has been a noticeable tightening-up of their sound. The new guy looks completely psychotic while playing, another bonus. Where once these heshers added a good dose of groove to their metal, they now employ a more rigid and straight forward metallic attack. If anything, they've become more brutal, but they have not lost the crushing hyper riff attack and ability to downshift into gutpunching chugging rhythms that has always been their trademark. The solos from both lead guitarists were creative and intense, and the hardcore-influenced gang vocals full-throated and powerful. The set was comprised of songs from their last 2 excellent albums, Quiet Earth and Dark Ages, and the superiority of their material was immediately apparent. An excellent band that continues to develop its singular voice organically, these guys should continue to rupture ear drums for many years to come.
I'm not exactly a huge fan of the Buzzcocks, but they do have a handful of songs I enjoy. It's cool that such a legendary punk band would come to Calgary, but truth be told they seemed a little out of place amid all the heavies on the bill. Still, the crowd seemed happy to pogo along to crunchy pop-punk classics like "What Do I Get" and "Ever Fallen In Love." There were a few missteps in the set, making the band come off as under-rehearsed. Sharing a stage with so many younger, hungrier and more technically accomplished bands threw these mishaps into sharper relief, but the guys got over on enthusiasm and seemed to really be enjoying themselves. Aside from Pete Shelley, I have no idea how many members were from the classic late '70s lineup, so its possible there were some new members still getting comfortable with the set. Still, they did all the songs I had hoped to hear from them and delivered a totally satisfactory and enjoyable performance.
Texan myth-metal warriors The Sword hit the stage next, and their bludgeoning attack prompted a violent moshpit reaction from some members of the crowd. Unfortunately, their set was heavy on material from their most recent album, the disappointing Warp Riders. The disparity in quality between it and their first two albums was made even more apparent onstage. The set therefore came across as disjointed, as excellent fantasy themed sludge metal classics like "Freya", "Iron Swan" and "Black River" were interspersed with completely unmemorable dross. The performances were tight though, so even poor songs were somewhat enjoyable, and I must note that the bassist was intensely eye-fucking every member of the audience like vintage Nikki Sixx. Here's hoping these guys come through with some better songs on their next go-around.
I'll deal with Sleep's set in another essay. It was the best show I've ever seen.
Quest For Fire had the unenviable task of playing right after Sleep at a cramped underground venue across the street from the main stage. It was apparent that the band was doubly disappointed with their slot, because they clearly would have liked to have been at the Sleep show themselves. Nonetheless, they worked hard to put on a solid show, and their hazy psych builds served as a good come down from the relentless heaviness of Sleep. The crowd grooved as the band's crescendo-laden set ebbed and flowed. At times their fuzzy atmospherics did get a little faceless, a problem the Toronto quartet has on record, but for the most part an enjoyable show.
A friend and I ducked out of the venue to grab some air and a slice of pizza, but when we got back the venue was full, so we missed out on seeing Portland booze rockers Red Fang. That didn't really bother me, as I met up with some good friends, and we spent the rest of the night swigging red wine and reflecting on Sleep's astonishing set. A perfect end to what might be the greatest day of my life.
I left for home the following day, but not before paying a visit to Sloth Records, a great little store with a whole bunch of 80s underground and alternative rock, plus a pretty healthy selection of Hawkwind vinyl to boot.
I left on a bus at 12:30 on Wednesday night, a mode of transportation that guarantees a healthy mix of itinerant labourers, homeless alcoholics and haggard-looking teen moms. Somehow I managed to stay sane over the 18 hour journey, though I suppose I owe my survival to a mix of Irvine Welsh's novel Porno and a contraband bottle of rye. Arriving Thursday evening, I immediately had to orient myself in a city I haven't visited since I was 12. Luckily, with typical Albertan pragmatism, Calgary is laid out in a grid system with numbered streets and avenues and divided into quadrants. Without too much trouble I was able to meet up with my good friend Noah the White, and negotiate access to a show he was doing sound for as his assistant.
The fact that the band playing was none other than my dear friends Red Cedar did not hurt my chances at getting in. The Vancouver boys gave a typically strong performance to a rather sparse crowd, with their hazy roots-rock shuffles and rustic country twang going over well with the locals. The performance was somewhat subdued by their standards, but it fit the intimate room they played in and the relaxed atmosphere of a beautiful summer evening. Lead guitarist J.P. Doucet ripped out his gritty Neil Young-isms over a gorgeous bed of Leslie organ laid down by Bruce Ledingham. Their sunny, expansive jams were a perfect antidote to a long trip in a sweaty, confined bus. The group's harmonies were as tight and tuneful as I have yet heard, although gonzo drummer Colin Jones didn't wield the mighty hammer of Thor quite so heavily as I am accustomed to seeing him do. I suppose his trademark thunderblitzes would not have fit the mood of this particularly quixotic evening, but I am looking forward to seeing them make a triumphant return to Vancouver's finest venue, the Biltmore. That place always seems to bring out the heaviness in those boys. They are in the middle of a tour of Western Canada right now, getting tight and road-tested like all good bands must. Look for a new record from them some time this year.
The Cedar boys and I adjourned to our hotel room to drop off gear after the show.They were kind enough to let my crash there for free... their room at the Fairmont was being sprung for by none other than mister Chad Kroeger's 604 records. They were being paid to back an artist on that labels roster for a few shows at the festival, and a posh hotel was part of the deal. We were sure to raid the minibar. An unexpected bonus was the fact that many other musicians were staying in the same hotel, so I enjoyed chance encounters various musicians throughout our stay. Although my buddies were out to party, I was too exhausted to do much. I spent a little while walking around the city on my own to get familiar with my surroundings and picked up a case of beer, from which I proceeded to donate refreshments to a couple thirsty members of Oakland fuzz rockers Drunk Horse as they hung out in the lobby. I also managed to make a fool out of myself by accosting Lee Ronaldo on the street. I rarely get star-struck, but he's just so freaking cool. I probably could have reunited with my buddies in Red Cedar and joined them in getting trashed with members of the defunct Vancouver bong-thrashers Bogus Tokus who had curated the festival, as well as Matt Pike and Al Cisneros of Sleep, (and High On Fire and Om respectively) who happen to be two of my personal heroes. But instead I showered and went to bed. Drag.
Friday morning saw us longhairs out in the hotel in force. We were harassed by security for taking advantage of the spa options available to us. Bunch of dirtbags we are!
Ah yes, the shows. We began with a workshop on unconventional guitar techniques led by Sonic Youth godhead Lee Ronaldo at an art speace down town. I suppose if you spend decades dedicating your life to expanding the vocabulary of an instrument you'll pick up a few tricks along the way, but what I witnessed was still astonishing. He began by playing some videos of various performances, then proceeded to unleash a 25 minute storm of sound that peeled paint from the walls, all the while never fretting a single note. Here is an example of the kind of stuff he was doing. It simply consisted of him exploring the properties of the instrument in every way except playing it normally. He bowed the strings, hit it body with his fists, played cell phone messages through the pickups, created feedback loops and fed everything through an array of warping devices only he could comprehend, the whole time coaxing unimaginable sounds from his instrument. It was a magnificent performance from one of the instrument's most idiosyncratic and daring practitioners.
Across town we dropped into a pub so crowded I could only stand in the doorway with the stage out of my line of sight. Fortunately, Dead Meadow are loud enough that I could have heard them playing from the Saddledome. The power trio's heady stomp can transport listeners to fantasy realms like few else, and guitarist Jason Simon is the wah-pedal's foremost practitioner today. Dude uses two... don't ask me why. Steve Kille meanwhile worked his bass aggressively in and out of Simon's clouds of sound, but was always right there when it was time to hammer the riff home. People have referred to their sound as being similar to shoegaze, and though their dense wall of fuzz owes much to volume abusers like the Spacemen 3 and My Bloody Valentine Dead Meadow's jams are too hot and aggressively psychedelic to sink into stoned lethargy, despite what the band's detractor's often claim. The many layers of sound that the listener must penetrate are a sonic signifier for the band, but the musicianship here is top notch. Simon and Kille are master jammers, constantly exploring every colour suggested by their deceptively simple phrases and while pummeling the heaviest of riffs. They did a set loaded with old favourites, probably because they've recently been rejoined by original drummer Mark McLaughlin, and were in peak form throughout. Those guys bring it on stage all the time, every time.
I saw C'mon later in the afternoon on the main stage, and though I am not familiar with them, I was impressed. The power trio did a raging take on biker rock that served as a good accompaniment for beers in the afternoon. They were raw, powerful and sludgy, although perhaps they betrayed a bit of a lack of melodic inspiration. The songs did become samey after a while, but their set was short, powerful and enjoyable, ending before there was time for monotony to become apparent. A good, rockin' take on hard boogie that is seldom re-visited in this day and age.
Vancouver metal gods Bison hit the stage to entertain a small but enthusiastic crowd that happily lapped up the band's sludgy thrash. As usual, this band proved themselves a force of nature onstage, and is truly in a league with any metal band going right now. This is my first time seeing them since they got a new drummer, (they remain on friendly terms with the original skin-basher, who could be seen happily watching the set from the side of the stage) and there has been a noticeable tightening-up of their sound. The new guy looks completely psychotic while playing, another bonus. Where once these heshers added a good dose of groove to their metal, they now employ a more rigid and straight forward metallic attack. If anything, they've become more brutal, but they have not lost the crushing hyper riff attack and ability to downshift into gutpunching chugging rhythms that has always been their trademark. The solos from both lead guitarists were creative and intense, and the hardcore-influenced gang vocals full-throated and powerful. The set was comprised of songs from their last 2 excellent albums, Quiet Earth and Dark Ages, and the superiority of their material was immediately apparent. An excellent band that continues to develop its singular voice organically, these guys should continue to rupture ear drums for many years to come.
I'm not exactly a huge fan of the Buzzcocks, but they do have a handful of songs I enjoy. It's cool that such a legendary punk band would come to Calgary, but truth be told they seemed a little out of place amid all the heavies on the bill. Still, the crowd seemed happy to pogo along to crunchy pop-punk classics like "What Do I Get" and "Ever Fallen In Love." There were a few missteps in the set, making the band come off as under-rehearsed. Sharing a stage with so many younger, hungrier and more technically accomplished bands threw these mishaps into sharper relief, but the guys got over on enthusiasm and seemed to really be enjoying themselves. Aside from Pete Shelley, I have no idea how many members were from the classic late '70s lineup, so its possible there were some new members still getting comfortable with the set. Still, they did all the songs I had hoped to hear from them and delivered a totally satisfactory and enjoyable performance.
Texan myth-metal warriors The Sword hit the stage next, and their bludgeoning attack prompted a violent moshpit reaction from some members of the crowd. Unfortunately, their set was heavy on material from their most recent album, the disappointing Warp Riders. The disparity in quality between it and their first two albums was made even more apparent onstage. The set therefore came across as disjointed, as excellent fantasy themed sludge metal classics like "Freya", "Iron Swan" and "Black River" were interspersed with completely unmemorable dross. The performances were tight though, so even poor songs were somewhat enjoyable, and I must note that the bassist was intensely eye-fucking every member of the audience like vintage Nikki Sixx. Here's hoping these guys come through with some better songs on their next go-around.
I'll deal with Sleep's set in another essay. It was the best show I've ever seen.
Quest For Fire had the unenviable task of playing right after Sleep at a cramped underground venue across the street from the main stage. It was apparent that the band was doubly disappointed with their slot, because they clearly would have liked to have been at the Sleep show themselves. Nonetheless, they worked hard to put on a solid show, and their hazy psych builds served as a good come down from the relentless heaviness of Sleep. The crowd grooved as the band's crescendo-laden set ebbed and flowed. At times their fuzzy atmospherics did get a little faceless, a problem the Toronto quartet has on record, but for the most part an enjoyable show.
A friend and I ducked out of the venue to grab some air and a slice of pizza, but when we got back the venue was full, so we missed out on seeing Portland booze rockers Red Fang. That didn't really bother me, as I met up with some good friends, and we spent the rest of the night swigging red wine and reflecting on Sleep's astonishing set. A perfect end to what might be the greatest day of my life.
I left for home the following day, but not before paying a visit to Sloth Records, a great little store with a whole bunch of 80s underground and alternative rock, plus a pretty healthy selection of Hawkwind vinyl to boot.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Departure
I'm going to the Sled Island music festival in Calgary. Gonna catch a bunch of wicked bands, including a reformed Sleep and the Buzzcocks. Updates when I return.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Memorial
June 6, 1944. D-Day. Here is a small musical tribute in the form of Iron Maiden's "The Longest Day" dedicated to the brave men who charged into the grey mists that fateful morning 67 years ago today.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Film
"What's wrong with a mom on acid?"
- Hippie girl in line for a Stones show wondering why the state took her baby away
I'm watching the Stones' long-lost documentary "Cocksucker Blues." I say long-lost because the thing has been the subject of a bizarre ruling which only makes it legal for a person to view the film if the director is actually present. There's some tasty live sequences and a bit of interesting footage of the traveling circus that was the Stones' life around the release of Exile On Mainstreet. For the most part the footage just hangs together without much context or narrative to hold it together. As a behind-the-scenes look at the debauchery of the Stones, it has its uses. Personally it seems to me like the film pulls some punches though... I mean I think the Stones' life off camera would have been similar, just with more blowjobs and shooting up.
The copy I downloaded cuts to a TV performance of Blue Cheer doing Albert King's "The Hunter" after the movie is over. Cool.
- Hippie girl in line for a Stones show wondering why the state took her baby away
I'm watching the Stones' long-lost documentary "Cocksucker Blues." I say long-lost because the thing has been the subject of a bizarre ruling which only makes it legal for a person to view the film if the director is actually present. There's some tasty live sequences and a bit of interesting footage of the traveling circus that was the Stones' life around the release of Exile On Mainstreet. For the most part the footage just hangs together without much context or narrative to hold it together. As a behind-the-scenes look at the debauchery of the Stones, it has its uses. Personally it seems to me like the film pulls some punches though... I mean I think the Stones' life off camera would have been similar, just with more blowjobs and shooting up.
The copy I downloaded cuts to a TV performance of Blue Cheer doing Albert King's "The Hunter" after the movie is over. Cool.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Anthropology
Sonic's Rendezvous Band are the great "should have been" of the mid 70s. The were the best band in America at a time when their former neighbors and tourmates like Grand Funk, Alice Cooper and Ted Nugent were all either burnt out or sinking into sad self parody (Well, the Nuge at least was still rocking it despite the silliness of the loincloth). Led by the MC5's mighty lead guitarist Fred "Sonic" Smith, the band was a haven for veterans of Detroit's burnt out rock scene of a few years earlier. With an unstoppable secret weapon in the form of the Stooges' "Rock Action" Scott Asheton holding down the kit and members of Michigan also-rans the Up and the Rationals rounding out the lineup, SRB pounded out a furious uptempo brand of rock n' roll that was equal parts motor city traditionalism and boundless proto-punk energy. Their whiplash raveups served as a launching pad for Smith's serrated guitar histrionics, and damned if the man didn't take every opportunity to remind a dwindling rock audience of the sheer power and excitement of the electric guitar.
Unfortunately, thanks to a series of bad breaks that left them with a virtually invisible historical profile and a scant recorded legacy, the band met an ignominious end some time in the early '80s amid drug abuse and critical as well as popular indifference. Their only commercial release during their lifetime was the astonishing "City Slang" single, which was pressed with the same song on both sides because the band only had enough cash to mix one track. But what a legacy! This song is an absolute barn-burner. The unstoppable momentum of the track comes courtesy of the aforementioned mister Asheton, who it must be said knew a thing or two about making a rock song move. Meanwhile, Smith goes head over ass soloing throughout the whole thing. The breakdown in the middle is so perfectly placed that it would simply be a crime against sound not to milk it for all it's worth and take off on an incendiary jam section in the song's second half. In concert they were known to push it to upwards of nine minutes in length, pretty incredible for the energy level sustained throughout. Tragically, the few bits of recorded music that do exist have been tied up in legal battles between various partners, including the now-deceased Smith's estate and they never legitimately saw the light of day.
Fortunately for us, this is the 21st Century, and you can download an extensive collection of bootlegs and studio outtakes recorded between 1975 and 1980 that has mysteriously made its way onto the cyberweb. I believe it was an unlicensed boxed set compiled by who knows in 2006, but the details are sketchy, and good luck ever finding it in an HMV. So really we are left with one option, those of us who require a mainline of the most potent Detroit rock n' roll. If you always thought the MC5's Kick Out The Jams was the only proper way of hearing the 'Five and that their studio albums were pale attempts at FM gold by burnt-out radicals high on the politics of the day, you'll be pleasantly surprised to know that the collection of SRB recordings available to you far surpasses Smith's more heralded band in quality and quantity. Imagine if you will about a dozen sides that not only kick out the jams, but permanently revoke their membership, roughly heave them out the door, and beat them up in the alley with a sock full of pennies. Go and download it all now. Don't worry, I'll wait.
Now I don't condone theft of people's intellectual property or copyright infringement. But, I do condone incredible rock n' roll. Come on guys, get your shit together. Clean up the masters, press 'em to vinyl and slap a price tag on it.
It makes me wonder just how many other great, unrecorded bands there could be out there. Food for thought. How many songs have been recorded for record companies who, for one reason or another, left their young charges twisting in the wind. How many face-melting live performances never went recorded? How many bands never even saw the inside of a studio? Record companies -- Open the vaults please! Come on, you're not going to use this shit. Stick it on the web and make it free. Ha ha, I know, I know. But seriously, get the SRB stuff out there at least. Us junkies will happily part with our hard-earned dollars.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Waves
Radio has failed music fans utterly. It should be the most important medium for exposing listeners to new music. Unlike listening to records or mp3 players, radio is not a closed medium. It is free, and accessible to virtually anyone. As a transmitter of culture, it is irreplaceable.
Unfortunately radio has spent the last half century dissolving into a vile steaming puddle of toxic afterbith. Radio stations do not sell music, but air time. The more time they can sell to advertisers (which they make money off of) and the less time they spend playing music (which they must pay for) the more successful they will become. Radio stations want to attract the largest possible share of the marketplace, and therefore will attempt to play things that will attract the largest amount of listeners. In many cases this means getting a hold of a few well-liked radio personalities who then make prank calls, donate prizes and shoot the shit into a microphone during rush hour to basically eat up airtime and do anything they can to avoid playing any music at all.
Many people who love and care about music get into radio stations with the best of intentions. The problem is that the machine is so big, these people don't have the power to change anything. They get jobs handling stations in backwater outposts with limited listenership until they land a gig with a major station and get to sit at a console and listen to music that is played automatically by a robotic playlist that is compiled by a pre-determined radio format that has been market researched to appeal to a core demographic in the local market. Very few musical decisions are made at all. The real decisions are made by the bean-counters who have an eye on the bottom line, and no one that I know has ever asked an accountant about good music. Gone are the days of a pioneering DJ like a John Peel who had the freedom to play whatever he wished and still be guaranteed an audience.
Radio has become more homogenized than ever before. In the 60's there were regional hits from obscure groups that could get picked up and go national with the support of local stations. Virtually unknown and stridently uncommercial groups like Blue Cheer, the Barbarians, The Sonics, the 13th Floor Elevators and The Monks had hits very early in their careers. Now there is almost no chance of a local group of unknowns getting airtime without getting the backing of known management and distribution. At one time, radio stations were independently owned, and thus only needed to respond to the needs of their local listenership. Today, there is no law against a private entity buying up as many radio stations as it wants. In the U.S., Clear Channel now owns the majority of commerical radio stations and also holds a staggering 99.9% if the stations in the top 250 markets. This means that we are hearing the same songs over and over again. There is no diversity, no outside voices, no alternatives. Oh wait, yes there are... you just have to turn away from radio to find them.
Moreover, payola still exists. All the major labels do it, but they are more clever about it than in the days of Alan Freed. Major label artists get the most airtime not because they are the best, but because they have the largest promotional budgets behind them. In fact, all the major labels have at one time or another been forced to pay significant fines due to violations of the current broadcasting laws. Of course, they can (or could) afford it, and it boosted their sales enough to cover their expenditures. Major labels also spend exorbitant amounts of cash and influence to convince lawmakers to altar government policy in order to make such activity legal. That was before then internet allowed musicians and fans to circumvent not only the major labels, but also the technological barricade that radio had artificially created in the past several decades.
It should come as no surprise that a generation of kids are turning off the radio. When I was young I listened to the radio constantly, beginning with the local top 40 station (and I still have an enormous database of 1994-1997 dance pop hits stored away in my memory banks) and then moving on to rock stations and later college stations as I grew older and my music tastes changed. But once it became possible to download music, I turned away from the dull, formulaic pablum of the radio industry. I got tired of hearing the same songs by the same bands at all times. I also got tired of the digitally frosted, ultra-compressed sound of modern radio rock, wherein musicianship is made secondary to the auto-tuned chorus and vocal effects that are pushed way up in the mix. I suspect I'm not the only one.
Lately I've been considering a career in Radio. Maybe its naive of me to think I can affect change. I'm not really that idealistic anyways though, I think I could make a living while having a good time. Maybe I can be a sports broadcaster or something. I mean, I might love music, but I doubt very much a job at a radio station will allow me to convey what I like to listeners.
Unfortunately radio has spent the last half century dissolving into a vile steaming puddle of toxic afterbith. Radio stations do not sell music, but air time. The more time they can sell to advertisers (which they make money off of) and the less time they spend playing music (which they must pay for) the more successful they will become. Radio stations want to attract the largest possible share of the marketplace, and therefore will attempt to play things that will attract the largest amount of listeners. In many cases this means getting a hold of a few well-liked radio personalities who then make prank calls, donate prizes and shoot the shit into a microphone during rush hour to basically eat up airtime and do anything they can to avoid playing any music at all.
Many people who love and care about music get into radio stations with the best of intentions. The problem is that the machine is so big, these people don't have the power to change anything. They get jobs handling stations in backwater outposts with limited listenership until they land a gig with a major station and get to sit at a console and listen to music that is played automatically by a robotic playlist that is compiled by a pre-determined radio format that has been market researched to appeal to a core demographic in the local market. Very few musical decisions are made at all. The real decisions are made by the bean-counters who have an eye on the bottom line, and no one that I know has ever asked an accountant about good music. Gone are the days of a pioneering DJ like a John Peel who had the freedom to play whatever he wished and still be guaranteed an audience.
Radio has become more homogenized than ever before. In the 60's there were regional hits from obscure groups that could get picked up and go national with the support of local stations. Virtually unknown and stridently uncommercial groups like Blue Cheer, the Barbarians, The Sonics, the 13th Floor Elevators and The Monks had hits very early in their careers. Now there is almost no chance of a local group of unknowns getting airtime without getting the backing of known management and distribution. At one time, radio stations were independently owned, and thus only needed to respond to the needs of their local listenership. Today, there is no law against a private entity buying up as many radio stations as it wants. In the U.S., Clear Channel now owns the majority of commerical radio stations and also holds a staggering 99.9% if the stations in the top 250 markets. This means that we are hearing the same songs over and over again. There is no diversity, no outside voices, no alternatives. Oh wait, yes there are... you just have to turn away from radio to find them.
Moreover, payola still exists. All the major labels do it, but they are more clever about it than in the days of Alan Freed. Major label artists get the most airtime not because they are the best, but because they have the largest promotional budgets behind them. In fact, all the major labels have at one time or another been forced to pay significant fines due to violations of the current broadcasting laws. Of course, they can (or could) afford it, and it boosted their sales enough to cover their expenditures. Major labels also spend exorbitant amounts of cash and influence to convince lawmakers to altar government policy in order to make such activity legal. That was before then internet allowed musicians and fans to circumvent not only the major labels, but also the technological barricade that radio had artificially created in the past several decades.
It should come as no surprise that a generation of kids are turning off the radio. When I was young I listened to the radio constantly, beginning with the local top 40 station (and I still have an enormous database of 1994-1997 dance pop hits stored away in my memory banks) and then moving on to rock stations and later college stations as I grew older and my music tastes changed. But once it became possible to download music, I turned away from the dull, formulaic pablum of the radio industry. I got tired of hearing the same songs by the same bands at all times. I also got tired of the digitally frosted, ultra-compressed sound of modern radio rock, wherein musicianship is made secondary to the auto-tuned chorus and vocal effects that are pushed way up in the mix. I suspect I'm not the only one.
Lately I've been considering a career in Radio. Maybe its naive of me to think I can affect change. I'm not really that idealistic anyways though, I think I could make a living while having a good time. Maybe I can be a sports broadcaster or something. I mean, I might love music, but I doubt very much a job at a radio station will allow me to convey what I like to listeners.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Jerusalem - Jerusalem
Band: Jerusalem
Album: Jerusalem
Label: Deram
Year: 1972
Say, do you supernauts like heavy, overdriven riffage roaring out of vintage '70s stacks with balls-out soloing all over it? Do you think that nobody has ever truly done justice to the creeping dread of early Sabbath? Do you frequently get disappointed by supposed "lost treasures" of seventies hard rock when they turn out to be high fantasy prog-flute suites in the manner of Jethro Tull? Do you like music that sounds like it was recorded in a cathedral cemetary? Should a lead singer ever wear a shirt?
Give Jerusalem's "Primitive Man" a listen. This melting soundscape of brutally fuzzed-out bass and harsh, bellowing rock god vocals is less funky than Grand Funk and gets more medieval on your ass than Argus-era Wishbone Ash.
Now rendered little more than a footnote in proto-doom history thanks to a few dudes from California, Jerusalem crawled out of the primordial muck of the early '70s and laid one platter of arcane sludge on us grateful acolytes and promptly sank back in. If they can be said to have a claim to fame, it is that Ian Gillam produced the record. I admire his taste, because this record trumps Tony Iommi's similar pet project, Necromandus. Orexis of Death and many other albums that I have come across in my search for holy truth carry legends that are often much heavier than their riffs.
Thankfully, Jerusalem delivers a good dose of gothic atmosphere along with its miles of heavy droning crunch, as that crusader cover indicates. "Hooded Eagle" is a nimble crusher with enough instrumental twists and turns to pull in prog rock enthusiasts but never wimps out. Deeply indepted to the devastating power of Sabbath and the stark tension of ofter British rockers, Jerusalem would point the way towards future magickal chyldren like Pagan Altar and Witchfinder General, as well as the over the top myth metal of the NWOBHM variety as demonstrated by Maiden and Priest. Nothing here ever gets overly polished or technical, the sound is raw, and the musicians are naive enough to try and fail to pull off moves they've swiped from better bands. Their boundless energy and sheer dedication to tearing down cathedral spires elevates the material, and occasionally as on the stomping "She Came Like A Bat From Hell," they catch a shot of divine inspiration with a memorable hook too. Give this a listen and you'll be riding off on a charmed steed to Antioch to slay infidels on the morrow.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Performance
It's sad that the concept of the live double-album has taken such a beating in recent years. People denounce them as lazy holding patterns or cynical attempts at exploiting the wallets and good will of fans. But man, if you were a rock band in the 70s, there was nothing cooler than laying down a smoking platter or two of hot, sweaty live jams. Not surprisingly then, most of the greatest live albums were made during those heady days. The concept seems to have lost its luster, which is odd considering there are as many great live bands as ever. The live album really serves two functions for the discerning consumer, documenting the onstage prowess of the band while acting as a de-facto greatest hits collection. Ideally it'll catch a band at the peak of their powers with classic lineup intact. Here are a few of my all-time favourites.
UFO - Strangers In The Night
Hawkwind - Space Ritual
MC5 - Kick Out The Jams
Motorhead - No Sleep 'Till Hammersmith
Jimi Hendrix - Live At The Fillmore East
Nirvana - Unplugged
Neil Young - Weld
Alice In Chains - Live
Judas Priest - Unleashed in the East
Scorpions - The Tokyo Tapes
The Who - Live At Leeds
Saint Vitus - Live
Thin Lizzy - Live & Dangerous
Pink Floyd - Ummagumma
Allman Brothers - Live At The Fillmore East
Blue Oyster Cult - On Your Feet, Or On Your Knees
Led Zeppelin - The BBC Sessions
Grand Funk Railroad - Live Album
Deep Purple - Made In Japan
KISS - Alive!
Lynyrd Skynyrd - One More For The Road
Iron Maiden - Live After Death
Rush - All The World's A Stage
The Rolling Stones - Get Your Ya-Ya's Out
Talking Heads - Stop Making Sense
Uriah Heep - Live
Humble Pie - Rockin' The Fillmore
Robin Trower - Too Rolling Stoned Live!
Ted Nugent - Double Live Gonzo!
UFO - Strangers In The Night
Hawkwind - Space Ritual
MC5 - Kick Out The Jams
Motorhead - No Sleep 'Till Hammersmith
Jimi Hendrix - Live At The Fillmore East
Nirvana - Unplugged
Neil Young - Weld
Alice In Chains - Live
Judas Priest - Unleashed in the East
Scorpions - The Tokyo Tapes
The Who - Live At Leeds
Saint Vitus - Live
Thin Lizzy - Live & Dangerous
Pink Floyd - Ummagumma
Allman Brothers - Live At The Fillmore East
Blue Oyster Cult - On Your Feet, Or On Your Knees
Led Zeppelin - The BBC Sessions
Grand Funk Railroad - Live Album
Deep Purple - Made In Japan
KISS - Alive!
Lynyrd Skynyrd - One More For The Road
Iron Maiden - Live After Death
Rush - All The World's A Stage
The Rolling Stones - Get Your Ya-Ya's Out
Talking Heads - Stop Making Sense
Uriah Heep - Live
Humble Pie - Rockin' The Fillmore
Robin Trower - Too Rolling Stoned Live!
Ted Nugent - Double Live Gonzo!
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Celebration
Happy Record Store Day! This is where I'll be... Neptoon, Redcat, Scrape, The Beat Merchant, Scratch, Zulu and Audiophile.
Go visit your local independent record store. Spend some money and keep 'em in business. Go watch I Need That Record! if you haven't.
Oh, and by the way, Ozzy Osbourne is the official ambassador of Record Store Day. Sweet.
Go visit your local independent record store. Spend some money and keep 'em in business. Go watch I Need That Record! if you haven't.
Oh, and by the way, Ozzy Osbourne is the official ambassador of Record Store Day. Sweet.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Mountain - Avalanche
Band: Mountain
Album: Avalanche
Label: Self-released
Year: 1974
"Most rock critics don't like rock and roll. Their taste is too good." - Leslie West, 1976
"During my lunch-hour I’d walk to 48th Street and gaze at all the guitars in the stores; one day I guess I took too long and my boss told me not to bother coming back. It wasn’t till later that I realized the guitar looked like a woman – it had a nice neck, lots of curves and it only made sounds when I wanted it to." - Leslie West, 2009
I love Mountain. Leslie West's mammoth guitar tone and harsh bellow defined some of the best heavy rock of the early '70s, and their albums Climbing and Nantucket Sleighride have long been favorites of mine, not to mention numerous live albums which range in quality from fantastic to inessential. Unfortunately, the undeniable chemistry between West and his skilled co-writer/bassist/vocalist/producer/arranger Felix Pappalardi also made for a strenuous relationship between the two. The band split after the lukewarm Flowers Of Evil album in 1972, and West replaced his erstwhile companion with Jack Bruce and continued to pursue his muse for two solid studio records and a live platter under the West, Bruce & Laing moniker. The pairing was especially ironic given that Pappalardi had been a producer for Cream from Disraeli Gears on. Mountain reconvened in 1974 to record Avalanche, a record that was poorly received both critically and commercially, and the group broke up the next year. West has attempted a few half-hazard reunions since then, but none included Pappalardi, who was shot and killed by his wife, Gail Collins in 1983. Incidentally, she contributed lyrics to this and other Mountain releases.
I originally shunned this album as a cynical late career cash grab from a spent group trying the reclaim past glories, and only very recently while on a serious Mountain/West, Bruce & Laing kick decided to give it a listen. Turns out its actually pretty badass. The press for this record has always been brutal, though knowing what I know about music criticism now I've figured out that a terrible review for a heavy rock band is actually a good thing. By 1974, hard rock was on its way out as the dominant style of popular music, (at least in the minds of the critics, who had never liked it to begin with) and a band purveying the kind of molasses thick sludge that Mountain specialized in was easy pickings for the burnt-out sixties refugees who made up the core of the rock crit establishment. Given the lineup changes and the fact that Mountain's only hit, the idiomorphic cowbell rock archetype "Mississippi Queen," was by now almost five years past, it was easy to dismiss this piece of very good hard rock. When combined with the changing popular musical landscape and the rapid corporate homogenization of radio during the mid-70's, its not surprising the kids went looking for other kicks instead. And with typical perversity, Mountain swam upstream the whole way, knocking out their hardest rocking set of tunes since their debut.
This is very guitar-intensive album. It lacks the blusey kick of the WB&L records, or the psychedelic flourishes of Nantucket Sleighride, and instead goes straight for the jugular. There are no concessions to the root forms of proto-metal, only seriously rocky terrain. They don't just share a producer with Cream, but also a serious amount of musical DNA as well. But where Cream and perhaps even Led Zeppelin had always been concerned with doing justice to the blues that so obviously inspired their strenuous power-trio jams, Mountain had always taken an approach that was more in line with Sabbath in that they were quintessentially rock in their approach. The result is that their aesthetic is far more focused (limited, depending on who you talk to) on heavy riffage, and conjuring the physical energy of the jam than either of those bands. Despite the dearth of melodic inspiration, the instrumental work is visceral and intense without overstaying its welcome. There are two forgettable slower songs in the style of their cross-Atlantic contemporaries Budgie, but much like that band they don't dwell too long on keeping the volume down and get back to rocking soon enough. The rest is a thick, sprawling stew of molten guitar and fuzzed-out bass, all held together by Corky Laing's thunderous backbeat. Even the two covers here, the hoary rock 'n' roll standard "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On" and the Stones' "Satisfaction" are re-chisled into a slowed-down and blown-out dynamic that is pure heavy. The production job here scores points as well, as Pappalardi gives the band their heaviest mix yet and still lets the performances breathe.
Although the key elements of prime Mountain are all in place, there is a noticeable lack of memorable riffs or songs. Nothing here is as instantly memorable as anything on the flawless first side of Climbing. Parts of the album plod where in the past the band had strutted, but as anyone who has ever sat through all of the live half of Cream's Wheels Of Fire knows, sometimes you need to dig through a little electric mud to find the gold. If pushed to choose standout tracks, I'd name the sludgy grind of "Thumbsucker" and the uplifting rocker "Sister Justice" as two of the best, and "You Better Believe It" is a smoking cowbell jam where West and Pappalardi really let loose with a bass and guitar duel that Geezer and Iommi would be proud of. This is the sound of veteran musicians working up a sweat, an enjoyable listen even if the material is less than inspired. Definitely recommended for seventies rock freaks and Mountain die-hards. Dilettantes would be advised to begin their climb elsewhere.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Flipside
So I bought a used copy of Robin Trower's Caravan To Midnight album yesterday, and you can imagine my surprise when I played the second side and discovered that a completely different album by a different artist has been pressed on it. I checked to see if there were some limited runs that had this defect, but as far as I can tell it might just be a one-time error. Has anybody else ever heard of this happening?
This is some of my favourite live footage ever: The Stooges live in Cincinnati, 1970. The audio quality isn't great, but its the best rock band ever at their absolute peak. Dig the total square that they have announcing the show's reaction to Iggy's antics -- "That's peanut butter!"
This is some of my favourite live footage ever: The Stooges live in Cincinnati, 1970. The audio quality isn't great, but its the best rock band ever at their absolute peak. Dig the total square that they have announcing the show's reaction to Iggy's antics -- "That's peanut butter!"
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Cosmic
Two buddies of mine have formed a droney psych project called Hierarchies. Their new EP, Cosmic Sloth delivers the goods.
Also, take a gander at that badass cover art. Click on the link to download and pay whatever you think is fair for three tracks of dark droney goodness.
Also, take a gander at that badass cover art. Click on the link to download and pay whatever you think is fair for three tracks of dark droney goodness.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Blarney
Happy St. Paddy's Day! Enjoy something from the best Irish band of all time.
Hey by the way, U2 sucks, except for Under A Blood Red Sky and a few other songs, none of which have been written in the last 20 years.
I try not to get political here, but please donate to your local Red Cross to help the earthquake and tsunami victims in Japan. That is all.
Hey by the way, U2 sucks, except for Under A Blood Red Sky and a few other songs, none of which have been written in the last 20 years.
I try not to get political here, but please donate to your local Red Cross to help the earthquake and tsunami victims in Japan. That is all.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Ides
Original Iron Maiden singer Paul Di'Anno was jailed on March 11th for scamming welfare. I was surprised to learn he wasn't there already.
More to the point, on this day in history 2055 years ago, Roman general and "dictator in perpetuity" Julius Caesar was murdered by a group of constitutionalist senators who opposed his centralization of the Roman bureaucracy and his authoritarian reforms of the Roman state. Among the killers was his friend, Marcus Junius Brutus. The subsequent civil war was a critical point in the transformation from Republic to Empire under Caesar's nephew, the Emperor Caesar Agustus. As I do every year, I will observe the Ides of March and commemorate Caesar's death by listening to Iron Maiden's Killers, featuring its devastating one-two opening punch of "The Ides Of March" and "Wrathchild."
Up the Irons!
More to the point, on this day in history 2055 years ago, Roman general and "dictator in perpetuity" Julius Caesar was murdered by a group of constitutionalist senators who opposed his centralization of the Roman bureaucracy and his authoritarian reforms of the Roman state. Among the killers was his friend, Marcus Junius Brutus. The subsequent civil war was a critical point in the transformation from Republic to Empire under Caesar's nephew, the Emperor Caesar Agustus. As I do every year, I will observe the Ides of March and commemorate Caesar's death by listening to Iron Maiden's Killers, featuring its devastating one-two opening punch of "The Ides Of March" and "Wrathchild."
Up the Irons!
Friday, March 11, 2011
Audition
What the hell are we doing here?
The Replacements are still one of my favorite bands ever. What a bunch of losers. Rocking Pleased To Meet Me as I type.
Today I went to Value Village and picked up AC/DC's Back In Black and the first Santana album for 50 cents each. Go me. Oh, and Nazereth's Greatest Hits. Now you're messin' with a son of a bitch.
I love scouring old used record collections. Generally the ones you find in second hand and non-record stores are in deplorable condition, and you often have to dig through mounds of John Denver and Bing Crosby Christmas records, but a solid find is always so rewarding. It's the thrill of the hunt I guess. Records are pretty resilient as it is, and I don't really mind a few pops and a little static... seems to give it character. I like the idea that someone was listening to the same record in a smoky basement thirty or forty years ago. It's like a window through time.
I think the reason you don't find much of worth in places like that is that the people to whom the music really matters will generally hang on to their records, and there are more rock fans who are like that than pop fans. The few quality records that do end up in the bargain bin at a pawn shop are soon scooped up by ravenous treasure hunters like myself. Once in a while though, you get really lucky and find something that is just obscure enough that whoever is selling it has no clue what it is. You can scoop up some pretty pricey goodies that way. I once fleeced the local hipster record shop (Zulu) when I found a pristine copy of the 1973 debut record by Cleveland, Ohio's severely underrated Granicus for a tenner. Dig those Robert Plant-esque vocals.
Keep your eyes and ears open, droogs. Never know what you might find the next shelf over...
The Replacements are still one of my favorite bands ever. What a bunch of losers. Rocking Pleased To Meet Me as I type.
Today I went to Value Village and picked up AC/DC's Back In Black and the first Santana album for 50 cents each. Go me. Oh, and Nazereth's Greatest Hits. Now you're messin' with a son of a bitch.
I love scouring old used record collections. Generally the ones you find in second hand and non-record stores are in deplorable condition, and you often have to dig through mounds of John Denver and Bing Crosby Christmas records, but a solid find is always so rewarding. It's the thrill of the hunt I guess. Records are pretty resilient as it is, and I don't really mind a few pops and a little static... seems to give it character. I like the idea that someone was listening to the same record in a smoky basement thirty or forty years ago. It's like a window through time.
I think the reason you don't find much of worth in places like that is that the people to whom the music really matters will generally hang on to their records, and there are more rock fans who are like that than pop fans. The few quality records that do end up in the bargain bin at a pawn shop are soon scooped up by ravenous treasure hunters like myself. Once in a while though, you get really lucky and find something that is just obscure enough that whoever is selling it has no clue what it is. You can scoop up some pretty pricey goodies that way. I once fleeced the local hipster record shop (Zulu) when I found a pristine copy of the 1973 debut record by Cleveland, Ohio's severely underrated Granicus for a tenner. Dig those Robert Plant-esque vocals.
Keep your eyes and ears open, droogs. Never know what you might find the next shelf over...
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Overhaul
A reformatting of the review system here is in order. Seems to me the idea of a review system is more helpful if I stick to some capsule reviews. I can cover more records, and you don't waste your time reading some long-ass essay that'll waste your time. I can give 'yall some invective whenever I feel like it.
In the mean time, I just want to let you know that I pre-ordered RADIOHEAD'S NEW ALBUM, KING OF LIMBS. It's pricey, comes with a download key, a CD, two 10" records extensive artwork, and vague statements about it being "a newspaper album." The album is terrific. It's relatively brief, but every track is a standout. I've listened to it five times in a row, and plan to play it non-stop for the rest of the night. Below is the review.
In the mean time, I just want to let you know that I pre-ordered RADIOHEAD'S NEW ALBUM, KING OF LIMBS. It's pricey, comes with a download key, a CD, two 10" records extensive artwork, and vague statements about it being "a newspaper album." The album is terrific. It's relatively brief, but every track is a standout. I've listened to it five times in a row, and plan to play it non-stop for the rest of the night. Below is the review.
Radiohead - King Of Limbs
Band: Radiohead
Album: The King Of Limbs
Label: Self-released
Year: 2011
If 2007's In Rainbows was marked by the relative dominance of guitarists Johnny Greenwood and Ed O'Brien, King Of Limbs is definitely Thom Yorke's album. There are no straight ahead rockers or guitar freakouts to be found here. It mirrors his Eraser solo album far more closely the digitally-enhanced space rock of past records. "Bloom" flutters along on synths that wouldn't sound out of place on a Flying Lotus track. It turns into the kind of glitchy tripout meditation that Radiohead has has excelled at since "Idioteque," only now the band sounds far more confident in its melding of digital and analogue instruments. The unit moves as a coherent whole, shifting gears from electronic breakbeats to analogue symphonic swells. Also present is the ghost of drum & bass Radiohead enthusiast Spor amid the disjointed Yorke harmonies on "Give Up The Ghost". "Little By Little" and "Seperator" contain ethereal vocal textures and spacious layered guitars, panning gorgeously like twin comets. As usual, Nigel Godrich's production is impeccable. A typically visually arresting video has been produced for "Lotus Flower", although I would name the stately piano march "Codex" as the record's emotional centerpiece. Each new listen reveals greater sonic detail and complexity, but this isn't really a difficult album to get into. A fine latter-day effort from an experimental rock group that experiments far more than it rocks. Hardcore Radiohead fans (are there any other kind?) will find much to love here.
Album: The King Of Limbs
Label: Self-released
Year: 2011
If 2007's In Rainbows was marked by the relative dominance of guitarists Johnny Greenwood and Ed O'Brien, King Of Limbs is definitely Thom Yorke's album. There are no straight ahead rockers or guitar freakouts to be found here. It mirrors his Eraser solo album far more closely the digitally-enhanced space rock of past records. "Bloom" flutters along on synths that wouldn't sound out of place on a Flying Lotus track. It turns into the kind of glitchy tripout meditation that Radiohead has has excelled at since "Idioteque," only now the band sounds far more confident in its melding of digital and analogue instruments. The unit moves as a coherent whole, shifting gears from electronic breakbeats to analogue symphonic swells. Also present is the ghost of drum & bass Radiohead enthusiast Spor amid the disjointed Yorke harmonies on "Give Up The Ghost". "Little By Little" and "Seperator" contain ethereal vocal textures and spacious layered guitars, panning gorgeously like twin comets. As usual, Nigel Godrich's production is impeccable. A typically visually arresting video has been produced for "Lotus Flower", although I would name the stately piano march "Codex" as the record's emotional centerpiece. Each new listen reveals greater sonic detail and complexity, but this isn't really a difficult album to get into. A fine latter-day effort from an experimental rock group that experiments far more than it rocks. Hardcore Radiohead fans (are there any other kind?) will find much to love here.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Bovine
One of my favourite sub-genres of rock music is cowbell rock. This is not a real type of music, it just loosely refers to songs that rock a cowbell. Many bands try their hand at the cowbell at some point or another, probably because it is awesome. Most of them succeed, because it is hard to be disappointed with anything after someone beats a cowbell in your face.
Here is a playlist that will get you banging the bell like Will Farrell.
1. The Beatles - Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except For Me And My Monkey.
2. The Rolling Stones - Honky Tonk Woman
3. Deep Purple - And The Address
4. Led Zeppelin - Good Times, Bad Times
5. Black Sabbath - The Wizard
6. Mountain - Mississippi Queen
7. Free - Alright Now
8. The James Gang - Funk #49
9. Leaf Hound - Freelance Fiend
10. The Groundhogs - Cherry Red
11. Humble Pie - Stone Cold Fever
12. Sir Lord Baltimore - Loe and Behold
13. Captain Beyond - Raging River Of Fear
14. Dust - All In All
15. Queen - Liar
16. Grand Funk Railroad - We're An American Band
17. Montrose - Rock The Nation
18. KISS - Nothin' To Lose
19. Nazereth - Hair Of The Dog
20. The Dictators - The Next Big Thing
21. Aerosmith - Last Child
22. Blue Öyster Cult - Don't Fear The Reaper
23. Scorpions - Pictured Life
24. Pink Floyd - Pigs (Three Different Ones)
25. Van Halen - Dance The Night Away
26. Bad Brains - Pay To Cum
27. Warlord - Lucifer's Hammer
28. Def Leppard - Rock Of Ages
29. Twisted Sister - We're Not Gonna Take It
30. Guns 'n' Roses - Night Train
31. The Beastie Boys - Hey Ladies
32. Guided By Voices - Rhine Jive Chick
33. The Brian Jonestown Massacre - Monkey Puzzle
34. Spiritual Beggars - Magic Spell
35. Cathedral - Heavy Load
36. Radiohead - Electioneering
37. Pantera - Drag The Waters
38. Clutch - Wishbone
39. Fu Manchu - Blue Tile Fever
40. The Queens Of The Stone Age - Little Sister
41. Priestess - Run Home
42. Sloan - Live On
43. Dungen - Mon Amour
44. Snail - Cleanliness
45. Boris - Statement
Enjoy. Don't blow this for us, Gene.
*I've revised this note somewhat, and may continue to do so in the future. My lust for cowbell knows no bounds. May plan is for this playlist to be definitive, with a limit of one song per band. Once you've used the cowbell once, its basically assumed that the instrument becomes a mainstay of your sound anyways. It's just as important when its not playing as when it is, except less awesome.*
**I've discovered this list of songs that feature the cowbell. It's far more definitive than mine, but there is a lot that is irrelevant to the kind of cowbell rock I'm talking about here. I guess the Beastie Boys song on my list is hard to fit in with the context of the rest of the list, but it's my blog and that song fucking rules.**
*** I added GBV's "Rhine Jive Click" for my buddy J.P. A classic cowbell rocker. Mr. Pollard knows what he's doing.***
Here is a playlist that will get you banging the bell like Will Farrell.
1. The Beatles - Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except For Me And My Monkey.
2. The Rolling Stones - Honky Tonk Woman
3. Deep Purple - And The Address
4. Led Zeppelin - Good Times, Bad Times
5. Black Sabbath - The Wizard
6. Mountain - Mississippi Queen
7. Free - Alright Now
8. The James Gang - Funk #49
9. Leaf Hound - Freelance Fiend
10. The Groundhogs - Cherry Red
11. Humble Pie - Stone Cold Fever
12. Sir Lord Baltimore - Loe and Behold
13. Captain Beyond - Raging River Of Fear
14. Dust - All In All
15. Queen - Liar
16. Grand Funk Railroad - We're An American Band
17. Montrose - Rock The Nation
18. KISS - Nothin' To Lose
19. Nazereth - Hair Of The Dog
20. The Dictators - The Next Big Thing
21. Aerosmith - Last Child
22. Blue Öyster Cult - Don't Fear The Reaper
23. Scorpions - Pictured Life
24. Pink Floyd - Pigs (Three Different Ones)
25. Van Halen - Dance The Night Away
26. Bad Brains - Pay To Cum
27. Warlord - Lucifer's Hammer
28. Def Leppard - Rock Of Ages
29. Twisted Sister - We're Not Gonna Take It
30. Guns 'n' Roses - Night Train
31. The Beastie Boys - Hey Ladies
32. Guided By Voices - Rhine Jive Chick
33. The Brian Jonestown Massacre - Monkey Puzzle
34. Spiritual Beggars - Magic Spell
35. Cathedral - Heavy Load
36. Radiohead - Electioneering
37. Pantera - Drag The Waters
38. Clutch - Wishbone
39. Fu Manchu - Blue Tile Fever
40. The Queens Of The Stone Age - Little Sister
41. Priestess - Run Home
42. Sloan - Live On
43. Dungen - Mon Amour
44. Snail - Cleanliness
45. Boris - Statement
Enjoy. Don't blow this for us, Gene.
*I've revised this note somewhat, and may continue to do so in the future. My lust for cowbell knows no bounds. May plan is for this playlist to be definitive, with a limit of one song per band. Once you've used the cowbell once, its basically assumed that the instrument becomes a mainstay of your sound anyways. It's just as important when its not playing as when it is, except less awesome.*
**I've discovered this list of songs that feature the cowbell. It's far more definitive than mine, but there is a lot that is irrelevant to the kind of cowbell rock I'm talking about here. I guess the Beastie Boys song on my list is hard to fit in with the context of the rest of the list, but it's my blog and that song fucking rules.**
*** I added GBV's "Rhine Jive Click" for my buddy J.P. A classic cowbell rocker. Mr. Pollard knows what he's doing.***
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Eulogy
Sadly, the White Stripes have decided to call it a career. Although this doesn't come as much of a surprise as they've been on hiatus for the last three years, it's still disappointing to see a truly great rock band hang 'em up. Beginning with a mutated hybrid of Mississippi delta mud and Motor city muscle on their eponymous debut and morphing into proto-Zeppelin super rock behemoths on their classic main sequence of De Stijl, White Blood Cells and Elephant before indulging Jack White's restless id and taste for country and folk arrangements on the schizophrenic and unfocused Get Behind Me Satan and finishing strong with 2007's gloriously eclectic and endearingly weird Icky Thump, the White Stripes have fashioned a body of work which artistically rivals anything put to tape this decade. Moreover, the band's skillful handling of its image combined with Jack White's unadulterated musical genius fashioned a media profile just as intimidating as their music. While I feel that given White's restless spirit it makes sense to retire the Stripes brand, it is a little bit upsetting to see one of the world's only superstar rock and roll groups ride off into the sunset. The White Stripes fill a need in the public consciousness for the transcendent mass cultural euphoric experience that can only be gained by blowing apart a stadium full of screaming fans with pure rock fury. With the Stripes gone, where can we turn to get stadium-filling, rock radio-ruling, car stereo-blasting rock and roll that you can get behind? Not Coldplay, that's for sure.
Unfortunately, I never was able to experience the Stripes in all of their live shit-kicking glory, although it wasn't for lack of opportunities. I'm pissed at myself now. Guess I'll have to be content with last year's blistering live career retrospective, Under Great White Northern Lights.
Here's a little something to remember them by. I first saw this video on Much Music's The Wedge when I was in about Grade 8. How time flies. Still a great track, awesome video.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Animosity
"Who hates the Stooges?"
*loud cheers from the crowd*
"We don't hate you. We don't even care."
-Iggy Pop with the Stooges, live at the Michigan Palace, February 9, 1974, Metallic KO
*loud cheers from the crowd*
"We don't hate you. We don't even care."
-Iggy Pop with the Stooges, live at the Michigan Palace, February 9, 1974, Metallic KO
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Definition
Musical historiography has spent at least the last four decades warping our view of rock. Over the last couple of years I’ve come to view the history of rock music as a continuum, rather than by the far more common discourse on genre ghettoization. Revisionist history written by orthodox rock critics has attempted to obscure this essential truth in service to advertising concerns. To clarify, I am not opposed to the use of musical definitions. Terms like thrash, grunge, punk, sludge and so on have their uses as sonic descriptors. When someone says a band thrashes, you generally take that to mean that they play fast, heavily distorted chugging rhythm guitars with lots of complex, winding instrumental breaks, jackhammer drum beats and shredding guitar solos featuring lots of hammer-ons. The problem arises when artificial barriers are erected between styles that are only superficially different. Music is fluid, and the best bands, as they themselves have been saying all along, cannot be pigeonholed.
Rock is a specific term, not an umbrella one. When I say rock, I’m talking about small band music that is dominated by the electric guitar, bass and drums and built mainly on amplified and usually distorted guitar riffs. For a band to be a rock band it must rock, and if you’ve been listening long enough now, you know what that means. Rock is a non-dance music that provokes a physical response. The physical impact of rock music when amplified generally is the force that compels acolytes to bang their heads or play air guitar. Despite their stylistic differences, the Rolling Stones, Stooges, Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Replacements, Soundgarden, Kyuss, High On Fire and White Stripes are all working within the same idiom. These bands and thousands more are all quintessentially rock. The instrumentation is the same, as is the small band format. A drummer, a bass player and a guitarist or two are the central voices in their sound. Vocals may be handled by a dedicated singer or one of the players. It serves the interest of the media (whose goal is to sell advertising, not music) to subdivide rock bands into categories because they can be more easily marketed or ignored, as the case may be. Guns ‘n’ Roses and Jane’s Addiction crawled out of the same Los Angeles club scene and parlayed the same set of arena-ready, classic rock approved influences and a similar glammed up media profile into short-lived but brilliant parallel careers as avatars for diametrically opposed scenes, MTV hair metal for G’n’R and SPIN’s Alternative Rock Nation for Jane’s. Why? It’s not as though Pearl Jam and Bad Company were all that different musically to begin with, but for the majors to present the Pearl Jam in 1991 as the Next Big Thing, an artificial break with the dinosaurs of the past had to be created to produce a groundswell of hype and move units. Failing to hide from the crucial twenty-something Generation X demographic the fact that their new sounds were highly influenced by their parents’ boomer rock would have been commercial poison, hence the need for a new name – grunge. Being an arena rock band to the core, Pearl Jam and the far more metal-influenced Alice In Chains and Soundgarden were lumped in with the ragged pop-punk of Nirvana. Sonically they all were extremely different, but still essentially rock. So basically we have this ridiculous paradigm constructed by which these bands do not share their historical antecedents but instead lept fully formed into the public's consciousness as a homogeneous "new wave" of music. I'm not buying it. Again, it was not the bands themselves who were saying this, but their major label handlers' marketing departments doing their best to obscure the music and wrap it in fashion conceits to move units. Pearl Jam themselves realized this once they were left in the dust by contemporary trends and at least had the integrity to own up to their influences and play on record with Neil Young.
Revisionist rock history has come along for the ride. Typically, a survey of early 90's rock makes some point about the symbolic gesture of Nevermind knocking Michael Jackson's Dangerous off of the top spot on the charts, but this is hardly surprising given that album charts always reflect more accurately (although not all that accurately) the serious record-buying public's perception than the fickle pop audience and insular broadcast industry. These outlets are better represented by the singles charts, which are based on airplay. "Smells Like Teen Spirit" only ever hit number 6 on the Billboard charts, and did so after a slow and steady climb rather than an explosive debut. Conclusion? The song that gets picked again and again and again as the greatest song of the '90s was never as ubiquitous as we are taught to remember. And as for the idea of Nirvana and their alt-rock ilk ending the reign of MTV hair metal well... MTV might have jumped off the bandwagon some time around 1992, but Quiet Riot's Metal Health still sold two million copies during the 90's, and Mötley Crüe's Dr. Feelgood sold twice that. People were still listening to and even buying this music. These sorts of sea changes don't actually happen and take place only in the minds of broadcasters and music writers.
Music criticism as it stands has contributed to the problem for decades. The vast majority of music criticism is not about music at all, but instead catering to the core audience demographics’ self image as being tuned in to what is cool. The advertisers which supply the revenue want to be able to sell their products to these people. If you’ve read as much music media as I have and have at least a modicum of critical thinking ability in your brain, you should have noticed how little time is actually spent talking about music itself. Where they are from, what they wear on stage, who in the industry they are associated with, what their videos look like and so on do not tell us anything about what a band actually sounds like. The idea is to build an image for the band and the publication itself and by implication the advertisers. Sometimes you will see albums advertised in the same publications that are reviewing them! How can we expect an impartial critical review if the advertiser is paying the writer’s salary?
Fashion and production trends have obscured the relative stability of rock as a style (ignoring its fluctuating commercial prospects) to a large degree, and their primary influence on the music itself was to date it. This doesn’t have to be the case, and the bands that have always remained committed to finding their musical voices have discovered this time and time again. If they are good enough and work hard, they might with luck even be able to make a go of it for a little while, touring and recording. Really, playing in a rock band is not a commercially rewarding enterprise, and aside from a few obvious exceptions it never has been. Again though, commercial concerns are irrelevant to the quality of music. As long as the sound of a rock band is built on solid musical bedrock, timeless and relevant music can be made whether or not the musicians themselves are aware of their own musical DNA. For this reason, bands that are superficially different due to whatever production tricks happen to be in vogue (giant, arena-ready gated reverb snare drums in the ‘80s, pseudo-electronic industrial textures in the ‘90s, digital distortion and auto-tuned vocals in the ‘00s etc) can be appropriately grouped together based on the musical traits they all share. The Who and Mountain and the Clash and Black Flag and Kyuss and the Smashing Pumpkins and the Black Lips might sound different, because the techniques used to record them differed and because each band’s particular voice was unique, but their instruments and techniques and song structures are all based on similar antecedents -- they all speak the language of rock.
Musical differences between bands and styles are a different factor, and by this I mean techniques. Morbid Angel use blast beats and guttural vocals, the Jimi Hendrix Experience did not. Earthless play guitar solos, the Ramones did not. These are not arbitrary or qualitative judgments, but simply statements of fact. The presence or absence of identifiable musical qualities such as these allows us to accurately refer to Morbid Angel as a death metal band and the Ramones as a punk band. Rock has sprouted its fair sure of offshoots, punk and metal being the most important and each of these encompassing their own sub styles. It is important to remember that these all fall under the dominion of rock however. There can be, and except for the most extreme cases (Napalm Death, Deicide, Mayhem, Extreme Noise Terror, Fear, Crucifucks, Hirax, Cryptic Slaughter) almost always is crossover between the styles in the work of all bands that do not fit squarely into the rock mold. Just as Led Zeppelin and Cream could easily be thought of as super loud blues bands, Motörhead and Metallica could easily be thought of as amped up, ultra-heavy rock bands (something Lemmy himself has always claimed), and Minor Threat and Sick Of It All as rock bands in a (sometimes permanent) state of pupation.
Certainly the bands themselves were aware of this, if not consciously, then at least musically. They were all listening to each others’ records anyways. Malcolm McLaren’s manipulation of the media and Johnny Rotten’s mouth got a lot more attention for the Sex Pistols than Steve Jones’ conventional pub rock approach to the guitar ever did, but it was the boys in the band who knew how to give Budgie and Black Sabbath licks a steel-toed boot to the ass and play them more primitively than even those artisans had. The media fell for it and went along for the ride because they love shit like the idea of the front man for a rock band talking about destroying roll. Yeah right. I’m sure there was no rock whatsoever that went into peeling off the riffs and solos (!) that make up “Anarchy in the U.K.”At the end of the day it was still the same power-trio racket that had defined rock ‘n’ roll since the ‘50s. Never mind the Bollocks indeed.
Don’t be fooled by Madison Avenue and its cronies. It’s about the music, and always has been. Ignore the extraneous bullshit and listen without distraction. Maximum volume yields maximum results.
Rock is a specific term, not an umbrella one. When I say rock, I’m talking about small band music that is dominated by the electric guitar, bass and drums and built mainly on amplified and usually distorted guitar riffs. For a band to be a rock band it must rock, and if you’ve been listening long enough now, you know what that means. Rock is a non-dance music that provokes a physical response. The physical impact of rock music when amplified generally is the force that compels acolytes to bang their heads or play air guitar. Despite their stylistic differences, the Rolling Stones, Stooges, Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Replacements, Soundgarden, Kyuss, High On Fire and White Stripes are all working within the same idiom. These bands and thousands more are all quintessentially rock. The instrumentation is the same, as is the small band format. A drummer, a bass player and a guitarist or two are the central voices in their sound. Vocals may be handled by a dedicated singer or one of the players. It serves the interest of the media (whose goal is to sell advertising, not music) to subdivide rock bands into categories because they can be more easily marketed or ignored, as the case may be. Guns ‘n’ Roses and Jane’s Addiction crawled out of the same Los Angeles club scene and parlayed the same set of arena-ready, classic rock approved influences and a similar glammed up media profile into short-lived but brilliant parallel careers as avatars for diametrically opposed scenes, MTV hair metal for G’n’R and SPIN’s Alternative Rock Nation for Jane’s. Why? It’s not as though Pearl Jam and Bad Company were all that different musically to begin with, but for the majors to present the Pearl Jam in 1991 as the Next Big Thing, an artificial break with the dinosaurs of the past had to be created to produce a groundswell of hype and move units. Failing to hide from the crucial twenty-something Generation X demographic the fact that their new sounds were highly influenced by their parents’ boomer rock would have been commercial poison, hence the need for a new name – grunge. Being an arena rock band to the core, Pearl Jam and the far more metal-influenced Alice In Chains and Soundgarden were lumped in with the ragged pop-punk of Nirvana. Sonically they all were extremely different, but still essentially rock. So basically we have this ridiculous paradigm constructed by which these bands do not share their historical antecedents but instead lept fully formed into the public's consciousness as a homogeneous "new wave" of music. I'm not buying it. Again, it was not the bands themselves who were saying this, but their major label handlers' marketing departments doing their best to obscure the music and wrap it in fashion conceits to move units. Pearl Jam themselves realized this once they were left in the dust by contemporary trends and at least had the integrity to own up to their influences and play on record with Neil Young.
Revisionist rock history has come along for the ride. Typically, a survey of early 90's rock makes some point about the symbolic gesture of Nevermind knocking Michael Jackson's Dangerous off of the top spot on the charts, but this is hardly surprising given that album charts always reflect more accurately (although not all that accurately) the serious record-buying public's perception than the fickle pop audience and insular broadcast industry. These outlets are better represented by the singles charts, which are based on airplay. "Smells Like Teen Spirit" only ever hit number 6 on the Billboard charts, and did so after a slow and steady climb rather than an explosive debut. Conclusion? The song that gets picked again and again and again as the greatest song of the '90s was never as ubiquitous as we are taught to remember. And as for the idea of Nirvana and their alt-rock ilk ending the reign of MTV hair metal well... MTV might have jumped off the bandwagon some time around 1992, but Quiet Riot's Metal Health still sold two million copies during the 90's, and Mötley Crüe's Dr. Feelgood sold twice that. People were still listening to and even buying this music. These sorts of sea changes don't actually happen and take place only in the minds of broadcasters and music writers.
Music criticism as it stands has contributed to the problem for decades. The vast majority of music criticism is not about music at all, but instead catering to the core audience demographics’ self image as being tuned in to what is cool. The advertisers which supply the revenue want to be able to sell their products to these people. If you’ve read as much music media as I have and have at least a modicum of critical thinking ability in your brain, you should have noticed how little time is actually spent talking about music itself. Where they are from, what they wear on stage, who in the industry they are associated with, what their videos look like and so on do not tell us anything about what a band actually sounds like. The idea is to build an image for the band and the publication itself and by implication the advertisers. Sometimes you will see albums advertised in the same publications that are reviewing them! How can we expect an impartial critical review if the advertiser is paying the writer’s salary?
Fashion and production trends have obscured the relative stability of rock as a style (ignoring its fluctuating commercial prospects) to a large degree, and their primary influence on the music itself was to date it. This doesn’t have to be the case, and the bands that have always remained committed to finding their musical voices have discovered this time and time again. If they are good enough and work hard, they might with luck even be able to make a go of it for a little while, touring and recording. Really, playing in a rock band is not a commercially rewarding enterprise, and aside from a few obvious exceptions it never has been. Again though, commercial concerns are irrelevant to the quality of music. As long as the sound of a rock band is built on solid musical bedrock, timeless and relevant music can be made whether or not the musicians themselves are aware of their own musical DNA. For this reason, bands that are superficially different due to whatever production tricks happen to be in vogue (giant, arena-ready gated reverb snare drums in the ‘80s, pseudo-electronic industrial textures in the ‘90s, digital distortion and auto-tuned vocals in the ‘00s etc) can be appropriately grouped together based on the musical traits they all share. The Who and Mountain and the Clash and Black Flag and Kyuss and the Smashing Pumpkins and the Black Lips might sound different, because the techniques used to record them differed and because each band’s particular voice was unique, but their instruments and techniques and song structures are all based on similar antecedents -- they all speak the language of rock.
Musical differences between bands and styles are a different factor, and by this I mean techniques. Morbid Angel use blast beats and guttural vocals, the Jimi Hendrix Experience did not. Earthless play guitar solos, the Ramones did not. These are not arbitrary or qualitative judgments, but simply statements of fact. The presence or absence of identifiable musical qualities such as these allows us to accurately refer to Morbid Angel as a death metal band and the Ramones as a punk band. Rock has sprouted its fair sure of offshoots, punk and metal being the most important and each of these encompassing their own sub styles. It is important to remember that these all fall under the dominion of rock however. There can be, and except for the most extreme cases (Napalm Death, Deicide, Mayhem, Extreme Noise Terror, Fear, Crucifucks, Hirax, Cryptic Slaughter) almost always is crossover between the styles in the work of all bands that do not fit squarely into the rock mold. Just as Led Zeppelin and Cream could easily be thought of as super loud blues bands, Motörhead and Metallica could easily be thought of as amped up, ultra-heavy rock bands (something Lemmy himself has always claimed), and Minor Threat and Sick Of It All as rock bands in a (sometimes permanent) state of pupation.
Certainly the bands themselves were aware of this, if not consciously, then at least musically. They were all listening to each others’ records anyways. Malcolm McLaren’s manipulation of the media and Johnny Rotten’s mouth got a lot more attention for the Sex Pistols than Steve Jones’ conventional pub rock approach to the guitar ever did, but it was the boys in the band who knew how to give Budgie and Black Sabbath licks a steel-toed boot to the ass and play them more primitively than even those artisans had. The media fell for it and went along for the ride because they love shit like the idea of the front man for a rock band talking about destroying roll. Yeah right. I’m sure there was no rock whatsoever that went into peeling off the riffs and solos (!) that make up “Anarchy in the U.K.”At the end of the day it was still the same power-trio racket that had defined rock ‘n’ roll since the ‘50s. Never mind the Bollocks indeed.
Don’t be fooled by Madison Avenue and its cronies. It’s about the music, and always has been. Ignore the extraneous bullshit and listen without distraction. Maximum volume yields maximum results.
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