I love writing up these 7”s I got from the Shotgun Room five years ago. I
typically start by googling the band, then the individual members, then the
producers and engineers, all in an effort to put together the band’s family
tree. Bulkhead’s only seems to be connected to Boston hardcore outfit SSD via
drummer Chris Foley. Chris Foley is also the contact person listed on the
insert, for some reason. I wonder if his phone number still works? Probably
not, but I could always call and find out! More research reveals that Bulkhead
released one album—Gas Giants—for
Shimmy Disc in 1994. Based on the strength of “Psychic,” I’m gonna have to
track the full-length down. It’s precisely the sort of song I hoped to find
when I bought an armload of 7”s. Uncut, pharmaceutical grade college rock. It
is unpretentious with aspirations probably not extending beyond the greater
Boston metro area. It’s jangly like R.E.M. but Bulkhead bring their own energy
to the table, and it’s sad that this 7” has gone through THREE different record
shelving units in the past five years and gone unheard. The b-side tracks “Saw
Ya” and the Roxy Music cover “Virginia Plain” are really good, but “Psychic” is the track I’m gonna
save if the house is burning down (assuming I can only save one, and I have to
choose between these three songs). The clear vinyl is fun too, and if I were
giving this album a score Olympic gymnastics style, I’d probably bump my rating
a percentage because I just plain fucking LOVE colored vinyl. ESPECIALLY if it
is see-through. This is an artifact from a simpler time, when bands were
content to just rock out and make whatever they wanted without having to worry
about being extra-innovative or incorporating tape loops or children’s choirs whatever.
Just good old-fashioned indie rock with heart and hooks.
Note: Jenny just said “this kinda sounds like the Pixies” and I was like “OF
COURSE! THE BOSTON THING!” so there’s that.
I wish I could share "Psychic," but there are like four videos of Bulkhead on Youtube and they're all live and I don't have one of those line-in turntables (and then you get into the issue of using other people's music for your own personal use without their permission etc). But here's a live version of "Virginia Plain." They also have a song called "A Dong Market," the title of which cracks me up.
Sire, 1987
Acquired: Half Price Books, Used, 2012
Price: $4
Is there some common understanding that Strangeways
is the Smiths weakest record?
Because if so, they must have had one hell of a discography. Strangeways Here We Come is a gem. It
has “A Rush and a Push and the Land that we Stand on is Ours,” “I Started
Something I Couldn’t Finish” and “Girlfriend in a Coma” and that’s just on the
first side! I think maybe I made that whole thing about this being a
substandard album up. I really appreciate great bands who can exist in five
albums or less. It makes everything so much easier. Not that easy is always (or
ever) the way to go, but the simplicity of falling in love is that much simpler
(see also: Pavement). With the Smiths, it was sometime in high school when I
found Louder Than Bombs on Napster
and, despite seeming totally unpunk, I was drawn like moth-to-porchlight to
Morrissey’s funny, self-deprecating, sad, and occasionally profoundly moving
lyrics and Johnny Marr’s guitars, which sounded unlike any guitars I’d ever
heard and really gave the Smiths a sound that many bands have tried to
replicate but just can’t nail down the gorgeous complexity of it all. THESE
were the cool guys. They somehow seemed so legit to me when I was eighteen,
driving to school with the windows down and “Panic” or “Ask” playing on a mix
CD.
I didn’t get to the proper albums until college. I still haven’t listened to Meat is Murder all the way through more
than once, but I do have a great affinity for The Queen is Dead and “Still Ill” from the self-titled debut has a
special place in my heart because until Danny played a cover of it for me at
band practice one day I’d A.) Realized I’d never really listened to the
self-titled debut either and B.) That song kind of nutshelled every complex
relationship-related emotion I ever had and C.) Thought Danny (who is an
incredible songwriter in his own right and now has a band signed to Sub-Pop’s
Hardly Art label) had written it himself and I was like “Holy shit that is
fantastic.” But Strangeways didn’t
come into the picture until Destroyer’s magnificent Destroyer’s Rubies came out in 2008, the quasi-title track of which features
the line “Typical me, typical me, I throw my cargo to the sea…” Being the nerd
I am—particularly with Destroyer songs and the other songs they reference—I
rooted around and found the source to be “I Started Something I Couldn’t
Finish.”
I think my favorite thing about music is the way the things I like are all kind
of daisy-chained together. Bands discovered and fallen in love with because of
off-hand references made by other beloved bands. It’s a beautiful, organic sort
of thing that I wholly appreciate. Something that really boils down the essence
of what it is to be a psychotic music person. Wanting to take in everything but
only having a finite amount of time and having certain tastes and such built up
over the years. That feeling of discovering a new favorite band, it’s better
than just about anything. It’s on the same wavelength as love (thus, better
than sex, natch). You don’t even need to know WHY you love an album; it’s
practically irrelevant as long as it is getting through. Anyway, the Smiths hit
that wavelength and still do. I think Morrissey is a total weirdo, but he seems
like a totally genuine weirdo who really is obsessed with his art and politics.
My kind of weirdo indeed. This listen through gave me the gorgeous closer "I Won't Share You." The melody is subtle but oh god does it cut right through you butter-like. And then it's just like, autoharp and bass guitar. That's all it needs! And it just ends! No wrap up or anything, just kind of fades away. The last track on the last album of one of maybe the greatest English band's career. I know you've got the Beatles and the Clash and Radiohead and all that, there's just something about the Smiths that feels raw and real and more emotionally resonant than anything produced by those other three bands.
Acquired: Half Price Books, Used, 2011
Price: $3
The reason I grabbed this is because I knew I heard/read Jeff Tweedy talk/write
about Green on Red once and I was like o_O. Jeff Tweedy likes this? I must
investigate. I love Jeff Tweedy. And regardless, I’ve really been diggin this
record for the last six months or so. I put it on every now and then to do the
write-up and can’t ever think of the right thing to write. I’ll start by saying
I always get a tingly feeling when I write-up an album from the year I was
born, because if I’m feeling old, that means the dudes that made the record
must be WAY old. And at the same time it doesn’t sound THAT old. But that’s
because I’m getting older, and really I’m sure older dudes probably think I’m
pathetic thinking I’m getting older at 26 (and I certainly now it, I feel like
I meet dudes in their mid 30s all the time and I like to think I’m as grisled
as they are but no fucking way). But I still like good old fashioned
alt-country before it was alt-country. Rootsy jams from AZ in this case. There
are all sorts of weird influences floating around on this one. At first I
thought REM (but less boring) and then there’s the rollicking aspect that
suggests that alt-country tinge, like Uncle Tupelo’s rowdier numbers, but OH
YEAH Uncle Tupelo doesn’t release their debut for five years SO. And then there
are the offhand references to the Paisley Underground in the Wikipedia entry
for Green on Red SO. OOO. I’m out of my depth. There’s a lot going on here in
terms of influences that’s just really cutting edge for the time that I am
absolutely unfit to talk about…until I read the Allmusic page about this album
and Green on Red and wow look at that technology! From what I’ve read this is a
sort of shape-of-things-to-come record for Green on Red in re alt-country, but
the references to “their friends” the Dream Syndicate have my interest way
peaked and remind me I need to thoroughly drown in the Paisley Underground like
I said I would years ago because of my ongoing love affair with Jangle Pop and
wanting to know my roots, etc. But all that shit aside, this I’ve been diggin
on this album for a while as I said and I’m still diggin on it. “Sixteen Ways”
is my favorite tune on the record. It’s like this thin-voiced murder ballad
that has this really awesome, carnivalesque organ running through it. It’s
seedy and sinister and awesome. And then it’s followed by ANOTHER fucking
murder ballad in “The Drifter,” which is about a drifter…going from town to
town…killing people. Feels like singer Dan Stuart exorcising some awesome
demons.
Fat Possum, 2011
Acquired: Christmas present, New, 2011
Price: $0
This was my favorite album from the last year. It may not have been the most artistically
daring or genre defining album, but it was easily the most enjoyable and the
one I listened to the most. There’s gotta be an equation for how many times you
can listen to an album before it wears out, and how that solution verifies the
worth of the music. In the case of Yuck, I made sure to avoid wearing it out by
swapping it out with something else every week. I did this because the album
was special, something that had grown near and dear to me. I didn’t expect to
fall for this album as hard as I did, and when it happened, I made sure not to
fuck it up.
Relationships with albums are a lot like relationships with girls. There’s a
delicate balance that must be kept, otherwise you run the risk of being
overbearing, smothering, and well there goes that. But you’ve also gotta
give’em attention too. A lot of attention (BUT NOT TOO MUCH). If all goes well,
you can nurture this relationship for years. Relationships with albums (like
girls, natch) often start off passionate and wild. You just can’t get enough of
each other. She…er, the album will be in your CD player for days and all you
wanna do is shout from the rooftops “HOLY SHIT I LOVE THIS RECORD SO MUCH.” And
then after a couple weeks, well, the honeymoon is over. You’ve gotta…see
other…albums. But, ok, ending that analogy right now. But you get my point,
right? There is always such a thing as too much of a good thing. No album, I
don’t care who you are if you say so you’re lying, is unwearoutable. Every
album has a breaing point. I mean, what if you were a huge Beatles fan and got
stuck on a desert island with only Rubber
Soul in your walkman? You would eventually get sick of it. You’d never
wanna listen to Rubber Soul for as
long as you lived and probably be like “Man, I wish I brought the White Album because at least that one
has all sorts of fucked up weird shit to analyze.” Back to Yuck though, Yuck didn’t wear out. It really, really
could have but I planned ahead and avoided it, but it could have. However, it
would have taken a very long time because this album rules.
It rules because it feels geared to the type of music nerd I am. It’s like some
lost gem dug up from some 1990s basement. It’s the sum of the band’s
influences, and that sum ends up being something surprisingly fresh and honest
and real. There are no bones made about the inspiration. No attempt to cover up
the Yo La Tengo or the Lemonheads or the Sebadoh. All the energy this band
would spend on posturing trying to pretend they weren’t inspired by so and so
is instead put into crafting a set of songs that just slay. It’s like a guided
tour of indie rock, from simplistic upbeat punk-tinged jams like “The Wall” and
break-your-heart indie power ballads like “Shook Down” and “Suck” and pure
indie-pop bliss in “Georgia.” Then there are the songs that sneak up on you
after like 10 listens like “Operation.” And the way the guitars sound on this
album, holy shit. And how I namedropped three bands up there but really, this
album draws from 80s and 90s indie rock as a whole, and it blends everything
together pretty seamlessly despite the surprising sonic diversity and the
rawness of the sound.
Every song is great. Or I love every song. Either/or. Even the B-Sides are
great (oh yeah, the album comes with a whole separate disc with six b-sides) because
they are straight-up b-sides. They don’t really fit on the album, but on their
own they shine. Like “Coconut Bible,” holy fuck. What a jam. It’s such a nice,
refreshing treat to have these new jams after absorbing the old ones so thoroughly.
And since there's a bonus album, here's what a true b-side sounds like!
Guided by Voices – Alien Lanes Matador, 1995 Acquired: Love Garden, New, 2012 Price: $14 I feel like I’ve already written about this album on this blog. I mean, do I really need to express how I feel about Alien Lanes? It’s like one of my built in personality traits. Ian is tallish, shy, and Guided by Voices. No even loves Guided by Voices. It’s just there. In my blood and stuff. I’m one of those people. If you ask me to make you a mix CD I’ll make you three, and then outline why the way I’ve ordered the songs is optimal for your listening experience. “The later stuff is full of great pop hooks, but it gets very hit or miss in the absence of Tobin Sprout who really kept Bob Pollard in check on those great albums. The holy trinity, Bee Thousand, Alien Lanes, and Under the Bushes Under the Stars.” The thing about GBV is that they so warrant obsession. It’s like perfect tornado conditions or something. A massive discography (Pollard apparently has over 1,000 songs registered in his name with BMI) that you can only do your best to listen to all of, great songs buried on albums laced with tape hiss and cast offs barely worth the magnetic strip they’re occupying but they’re there anyway. It’s so pure and unfiltered, and seeing the bad songs helps you appreciate the great ones that much more. It’s like the whole process of the band is documented from day one. Like there wasn’t a single idea they didn’t record. Sure, it makes for some hit or miss, but good lord the hits are some of the most potent pop songs of all time. Maybe that’s overexaggerating, or is it? I mean, I think Guided By Voices are better than the Beatles, but that’s just me. The Stones? Please. Pollard and Sprout over Jagger and Richards any fucking day. Especially with the classic line-up.
Alien Lanes is just as good as Bee Thousand, if not better. I don’t subscribe to one being superior, but the parallel theory. That some sort of metaphysical anomaly occurred in Dayton, OH in 1994-1995 that changed the game. The thing about Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes is how far superior they are to every other record in GBV’s discography. They are perfect. There are fillery songs, but they’re there to accent the real cream. Just look at how “(I Wanna Be a) Dumbcharger” brings you into a brown haze and then that beautiful bring A power chord hits and you’re suddenly in the most perfect minute and thirty-three seconds of your life. “Game of Pricks.” I didn’t even have to look up the running time, that’s the kind of GBV obsessive I am. And the thing is, ALL GBV obsessives are like this. It’s cultish, really, but I think that’s the point.
I know I said that Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes are parallel, but I should clarify one thing: Bee Thousand is the better album (sequencing, clarity of vision, etc) whereas Alien Lanes has better songs. Surefire hits like “A Good Flying Bird,” “Game of Pricks” (easily the crown jewel of GBV’s expansive (understatement) discography), “As We Go Up We Go Down,” “Blimps Go 90,” “My Valuable Hunting Knife,” “Motor Away” and under the radar stunners like “King and Caroline,” “Ex-Supermodel,” “Alright,” and that magnificent drinking anthem opener “A Salty Salute.” The hits are just so much hotter on Alien Lanes. And the thing is, all the best songs are under two minutes long. That’s a beautiful tactical manouever if there ever was one. Crafting these glorious hooks, playing them out JUST long enough and never banking in repeating the chorus for five minutes like modern pop music. It leaves you wanting more. Makes the songs practically infinitely repeatable. I’m not much of an American. Not really. But Guided by Voices is one of those things that reminds me that America has the potential to be absolutely great. I mean, we produced the greatest band of all time, didn’t we? Look at those American Flag chucks Pollard is wearing on the back of the sleeve! That’s America right there! These five schulbby dudes hanging out in a cluttered basement, either before or after or during the process of making an unfuckwithable masterpiece. It’s not even something that can be argued. I’m a pretty even-handed dude, always willing to see things from someone else’s point of view and to quick to admit I’m wrong when I’m wrong. However, if you dismiss Guided by Voices, I will probably think less of you. I don’t want to be this way, but I can’t help it. Maybe that’s hyperbole, I won’t think less of you, I just won’t understand you. I know it tanked at least one potential relationship in college when I found out this girl “just didn’t really get why this band was supposed to be so great.” I tried to show her the way, I made like two mix CDs and wrote out a listening guide but after that, I knew it was toast. Maybe that just helped me realize that the compatibility issues were deeper than I could see because I just wanted a girlfriend. Jenny loved Guided by Voices though, and when we got married, she knew she was marrying my obsession and was OK with that and downright supportive. She came with me to see them in Minneapolis on the Classic Line-Up tour and thought it was awesome. I think that’s when I realized I was going to propose to her as soon as I had enough cash to buy a ring. It seems downright baseless to judge someone because they don’t like some silly band, but to me GBV ISN’T just a silly band. It’s my favorite band, something I’ve spent the last eight years internalizing and to hear a dismissal of the band to my face is like a personal insult. There’s something about a bunch of dudes in their 30s getting together and deciding to be rock stars. Not with lofty ambitions (ok, Pollard maybe), but just for their own personal wellbeing. For fun. Dudes with families and day jobs and mortgages. That’s the human spirit right there, and I want to live my life like that. To just say fuck it, let’s get drunk and record music in the garage.
Acquired: Half Price Books, Used, 2012
Price: $5
This is a beautiful record that I only very recently fell in love with. I had
some issues with this album when it came out, and they were the worst kind of
issues. The kind you internalize when you’re Music Director at a college radio
station and you overthink everything to the point where you can’t even enjoy
music like a regular person anymore. My problem wasn’t the band itself, not by
any means. I loved their sound so much. The songs were beautiful, just the
epitome of loveliness. I saw them open for Blitzen Trapper a little bit before
this album came out (I think, or they were touring in support of it) and I
remember seeing Robin Pecknold walking down the street as I left with a massive
headache halfway through Blitzen Trapper’s set and I told him how fantastic his
band sounded and how they were the epitome of loveliness and he just seemed
like the sort of dude who was new at receiving compliments about his music and
was really very sweet and like thanks! That still resonates with me, how just
flat out fucking nice that guy was. I’m sure he still is that nice, and really,
listen to this music, how could people that made music with this much beauty
and passion be dicks? I mean, I know it happens but I choose to ignore it and
just live in my blissfully ignorant world where everyone is cool. So anyway, my
problem with the record was all the insane press it got like this was the
second coming. Like Fleet Foxes were single handedly saving music. And I
thought that was just way off. I thought the music was so gorgeous and sounded
like it was straight out of mid-century Appalacia or something but that was
just it, it sounded old and I have a hard time really rewarding stuff that is
basically doing a magnificent job at doing something that has already been
done. It’s the same way I get annoyed when every actor up for the best
actor/actress Oscar is getting nominated for a biopic. There just seems to be
so much more in doing something new. But
now that doesn’t matter, not with this album. It’s just so achingly lovely that
all of that critical mumbo jumbo can be left at the curb for the garbage man
(assuming it’s under 50 pounds, otherwise you’re gonna have to haul it to the
dump yourself). There’s a purity to this album that I didn’t see the first time
around. There’s so much joy in it, and though it is fiercely controlled, it
never feels restrained. It’s wild and free and all that. A testament to capital
F Folk music. It’s not art, it just is, and really I think that’s more important
and an answer to why I can put this record on any time, any place, and dig on
it.
Squeeze – Singles: 45s and Under
A&M, 1982
Acquired: Half Price Books, Used, 2011
Price: $1.50 Someone put this on at work one day and the second I heard “Up the Junction” I
was like “I must have this.” And I found out it was Squeeze’s singles collection
on vinyl that very day and was like “yes please.” And man oh man, I’m always
really on the fence about new wave but this stuff is just so genuine and well,
just really good. Not earth shattering but true and kind of pure. “Pulling
Mussels (From the Shell)” has a goofy title but it’s like some weird kindred
spirit of Elvis Costello. “Tempted” is on this record too, which is great
because when it comes on, I think I have cable television and there’s a
commercial playing. Overall, this is a nice album to pull out and put on at
random when people are over or you’re making dinner and just need something
good in the background with a couple hits thrown in for “oh yeah this song! I
love this song!”
Bob Dylan – Oh Mercy
Columbia, 1989
Acquired: Half Price Books, Used, 2012
Price: $2.50 This is a great late Dylan record, somewhere after all the Jesus stuff and
those two really shitty albums he made and before he started making all of
those blues records or whatever those albums from the 90s were. I bought this
record because it has “Most of the Time” on it, which was featured in the movie
High Fidelity and featured on the
soundtrack and a staple for one of the pretty rocky breakup years back. I’ve
never listened to the religious albums or the shitty ones that came after, but
this does sound like a return to form record. It’s solid. Sounds like Bob Dylan
run through the ringer. Most of the songs suffer from that electronic 80s
production, but it’s not nearly as obtrusive as it is on, say, Leonard Cohen’s
80s albums. “Ring Them Bells” is a beautiful, somber tune buried in the
tracklist. It totally caught me off guard, and kind of led to this idea that “Oh,
this is Bob Dylan now.” He’s moving forward, aging gracefully. His voice hasn’t
aged as well as you might have thought it would, but that’s kind of the beauty
of it. It just gets more weathered and will keep wearing down until he’s in the
ground. I remember Sufjan Stevens covered that song on the I’m Not There soundtrack and I thought it was overlong and weird
and then I thought it was kind of awesome when I heard the original. When the
tunes are spare and lovely, they succeed greatly. When they’re angsty and
bitter like “Political World” and “Everything is Broken,” they get a little too
dated. I’d definitely love to hear a version of this album stripped down to
just Bobby D and a guitar because you know the songs would sound great (that’s
just how the man rolls), and I know Daniel Lanois production and I’m just some
upstart coming in being all “oh boo hoo the 80s” but that’s just how I call it.
On an unrelated note, the teriffic “Shooting Star” sounds like the balladesque
songs Craig Finn has been writing lately.
Since it's like impossible to find an original Bob Dylan tune on YouTube, here's that Sufjan Stevens version of "Ring Them Bells"
Drive Time, in which I spend a week with an album I haven't really listened to before that I probably should have listened to before.
It’s weird how things can just slip under your radar.
Especially things that you love. Or would have loved properly had you come to
them at the right time. There’s a bit of remorse I’ve felt listening to Sha Sha all week in my car. I felt
remorse that I didn’t love this album like I should have when I was in high
school. This record came out in March 2002. I was sixteen years old, and I was
obsessed with Weezer, and this album sounds like the Weezer I loved. The Weezer
of Blue Album and Pinkerton. That spirit is here. Huge pop
songs done on a modest scale. My bag. I even remember downloading Sha Sha on Napster. I remember really
loving “Wasted & Ready” and for some reason, neglected to listen to the
rest of the album. Why? There are so many surefire hits I was bound to love it
because right now, I’m 26 and I think it’s one of the best high school records
I’ve ever heard.
That isn’t meant as a knock, because as you know well, it’s very easy to stay
in love with the music you loved in high school. Maybe I was getting too punk
rock. This was sophomore year, the year of 9/11, and the year I started
listening to lots of Jello Biafra spoken word albums and 80s punk and kind of
cocooned and came out someone that was too cool to like anything that wasn’t
politically charged. Or something. I don’t know, there was a lost year in the
punk rock gestation where I was critical of everything and then about a year
later I found the Weakerthans and started branching out into indie rock like a
good little soldier. I can only suspect this is the case. The one time in my
life where I shunned poppy music (all the while devouring pop punk). I’m sorry,
Sha Sha, I really am. You would have
made the perfect soundtrack to so many awkward dates and makeout sessions
(well, the like less than 10 makeout sessions I partook in during high school)!
Alas, here I am, old and not so much nostalgic but really fondly embracing the
music I loved as a teenager. Finding those qualties that made me love it in the
first place and refusing to write it off as “stuff I liked in high school”
which seems like such a common thing to do. It’s not like your taste gets
better, it just evolves. I mean, I liked some shitty stuff when I was fourteen
and fifteen, but that was all on the path to enlightenment. It’s like, once you
know what you like, and that what you like has certain merits you can kind of
stop judging it. Or maybe that’s just me holding this up to the alternative,
which is Limp Bizkit and Korn and Slipknot and everything looks like solid gold
compared to that shit.
So here’s what happened. Here’s how this record fell into my life in a rather
serendipitous way. I was assisting on a section reflow at work and had to be
there past normal go-home-time until 11 and had to spend that time taking books
off of shelves, moving shelves around, getting splinters, hammering pegs into
shelf walls, and then putting shelves back up and putting books back on
shelves. And this is what the assistant manager put on and all the gripes I had
in my head about having to stay there til 11 kind of went away and I just
worked like a happy little ant all like “Good lord this album is so great!”
Naturally, the ASM remarked that this was the sound of high school. Shit yes.
The next day, I saw the CD sitting up at the buy counter with a $1 clearance
sticker on it and promptly purchased the thing. And it’s been stuck in my car
stereo.
Kweller’s finest attribute is that he might as well be you. Just some kid from
some small Texas town, probably writing these songs in his bedroom or whatever.
The melodies, though, the melodies are world class. They’re playful yet
elegant. Fun without sapping any emotional core. It’s also one of those rare
album I heard and immediately knew my wife would like. She’s very picky.
Sometimes you have to sneak music to her the way you sneak broccoli into
smoothies for people who don’t like vegetables (or that one guy from the Magic
Bullet commercial who doesn’t like vegetables and remarks “I CAN’T TASTE THE
VEGETABLES!” when he tries the broc laced smoothie). I’ll play an album a few
times in the car, around the house, making sure to cue up the tracks I think
she’ll like. I’m not trying to say that she doesn’t love music, she is just
very, very…well, picky. It’s kind of how we compliment each other. She just
likes what she likes whereas I have to critically examine something before I
can like some sort of nerd detective before I can be like “this is really
great” (or maybe more like a dog walking around in circles before choosing to
lie down). I put this on in the car and, as I suspected, she immediately liked
it. Point Ian.
Kweller’s balancing of the slow jams with the straight-outta-Pinkerton jams is nice. I totally
suspected him to just ramp up the power pop but the tender tunes like “Family
Tree,” “Falling” and “Lizzy” are that emotional core I was talking about.
Playing off the playful “Wasted & Ready” and “Commerce, TX.” It’s rich and
satisfying. The hooks, man oh man the hooks! The aforementioned “Commerce, TX”
sounds so easy. Like it could have been tossed off, written in under an hour,
and the thing about great songs is that sometimes they’re like that. Sometimes
they just come out and there it is and you don’t really have to fuss with it
it’s just there. It also makes sense that it was Evan Dando of the Lemonheads
who took Kweller under his wing. It’s all coming together, what with Dando
being another one of those people who has fucking outstanding hooks just
effortlessly flowing out of him. For some reason I find it very comforting that
Kweller married the girl “Lizzy” is about. That kind of seals the deal for me.
OK, Ben Kweller, I thought you were like, SO UNCOOL when I was in high school
but now I realize that you are very cool (maybe played in an uncool way but
still cool) and I swear every time “Harriet’s Got a Song” comes on I think “This
is maybe the best song on the record and it’s buried second to last, what a
bold move!” It’s so wonderful to find an album that makes me feel giddy. Something that appeals to the
basest of my musical obsessions and just feels so pure and good and fuck yes.
There is hope for this world yet!
It was so strange that after two years working at HPB Lawrence, waiting for
something cool like this to come in, it came in like a month before I left. I
have NEVER even seen a copy of this album on vinyl. I didn’t even know what the
cover looked like until I did this insanely cool record buy full of weird out
of print psychedelic and prog rock stuff from the 70s. Let’s say I flipped a
bit. I don’t buy records hardly at all anymore, but this one made me revert to
my wanton, wholly irresponsible record buying early 20s. It’s a weird, weird,
wonderfully weird record. It’s got these glammy, Bowie-esque tunes like “Baby’s
on Fire” and “Needle in the Camel’s Eye” but then it’s got the spacey serenity
of “Some of Them Are Old” and the stunning, magnificent, absolutely untouchable
title track that sounds like this timeless piece of sonic art that will carry
through the ages. It’s anthemic without really standing for anything, and
that’s a beautiful thing. Jenny just said “It’s very artistic” and she’s right!
She keeps asking “What is this?” and then “Here Come the Warm Jets” comes on
and she goes “Oh yeah I love this song.” It’s hard to believe this record is 40
years old despite still sounding so fresh and modern.
