The Kinks - Are the Village Green Preservation Society

The Kinks – Are the Village Green Preservation Society

Reprise, 1968

Acquired: Half Price Books, Used, 2013

Price: $12.50

 

The Kinks are waiting for me. At some point—once Dadhood finally sets in—there will be weeks and months and years of digging up and internalizing the intricacies of British pop and rock music from the 1960s and 1970s. At this point, all I can do is keep dangling my toes in the water and collecting the accepted masterpieces. I really like the Kinks, but do I really like the Kinks? I can’t talk about their line-up changes, their cultural impact, or Ray Davies’ solo career but I sure do love Lola vs. The Powermanat the Money-Go-Round. The only other album of there’s I’ve listened to is the US version of their debut. There are six albums between Kinks and Lola, and the only one I’ve listened to of those six is Village Green. And really, I’d only listened to it once all the way through up until this afternoon. “Someday,” I said to myself when the deluxe edition of Village Green came into the store. “Someday I’ll read the Kinks entire Wikipedia page and dive into their discography album by album and be able to appreciate the b-sides and rarities.” I like having background information. Sometimes it becomes prohibitively necessary for me to fully enjoy an album. I’ve listened to Village Green three times this morning and I’m over the moon about it. It’s one of the most inventive pop albums I’ve ever heard. It’s fun and funny and the composition, orchestration, and songwriting is out-of-this-world great. But I know I could appreciate it more.

But none of that matters because I can just put on Village Green and go about my morning routine and enjoy the pleasant, inventive, and eccentric tunes, which practically ooze nostalgia. There are all sorts of thematic mourning for England’s bygone days that feel universal now, then, and forever. Plus there’s just pure pop majesty in the melodies. The way that chorus for “All My FriendsWere There” sneaks up on you is just so fucking gorgeous. The way the title track never, ever wears out. That might be a fun experiment, because of course you’ll get sick of a great song if you hear it enough times in a row. But how many listens would it take for someone to get sick of “The Village Green Preservation Society”? I bet quite a few. Plus there is so much going on sonically that you would always be picking up new little things you missed before. I love the Kinks because they never seem preoccupied with being hip or cool, which seems to be the defining trait of many a modern mainstream Britpop band. I think I should probably listen to Arthur. I find it insane that I’m running a music blog and fancy myself some kind of rock music nerd and have never listened to Arthur. But that’s half the fun, I suppose. I’m quite partial to that “How have I gone my whole life and never listened to this great record feeling?” It keeps you humble and coming back for more.

My copy of Village Green is a second US pressing from the mid-70s. It is in fantastic condition, which means that it will someday be destroyed by my future children. I can see it now, and it is terrifying. My parents never had much of a record collection when I was growing up. By the time I was old enough to know what music was, the ancient turntable had been buried in the basement with a stack of Eagles, Olivia Newton John, and greatest rock hits of the 70s LPs piled on top of it. There was one Beatles LP: a thoroughly scratched up copy of Revolver. I’m fairly certain there were two Rutles albums, which is insane. No Led Zep, no Sabbath: Just a bunch of stuff that you usually find sitting in the corners of basements, garages, and attics. Pretty much every record buy at HPB is like this (the collections have varying degrees of mold and mustiness and are quite honestly the bane of my existence). The kind of stuff that thoroughly annoys a teenager looking to experience music in a tactile form because the cassingle of “Whoomp There it Is” does not count. So the teenager is left to plug in the record player and spend an hour trying to figure out how to hook up the massive wooden speakers. And then the teenager puts on some record and proceeds to play DJ and scratch the shit out of Alice Cooper’s “School’s Out” which is the only song he knows and is track one on one of the myriad best of the 70s compilations. His father gets pissed even though the records are worthless. That was me, that teenager, but unlike my father my record collection has some real gems and all I can do now is fear and dream of a locked glass cabinet and severe groundings for trying to mess with Dad’s records. And at the same time, I want my kids to inherit my record collection. It feels like an investment, but it’s not about the money (although they are sort of an emergency fund). I want them to learn to take care of nice things that have appreciating value.

Now here's one of the greatest summertime jams you will ever hear. 

The Dubrovniks - "My Coo Ca Choo" 7"

The Dubrovniks – “My Coo Ca Choo” 7”

Citadel, 1988
Acquired: Love Garden Shotgun Room, Used, 2008

Price: $.25

 

The Dubrovniks’ are surprisingly versatile! On this 7” they tackle Alvin Stardust’s 1973 glam-rock single “My Coo Ca Choo” with aplomb and sound like T-Rex in the process. The b-side “Girls Go Maniac” blends a little of the rockabilly displayed on “If I Had a Gun” with some straight up, good time, slightly trashy, and quietly rollicking rock and roll. As with the “Fireball of Love” 7” (which was also released in 1988), the production is clean and not corny, the songs are short, replayable and fun, and while these guys don’t really blow you away with their originality, they are fantastically capable at making catchy little tunes. The extensive resumes of the members of the Dubrovniks can be found on Wikipedia, which is kind of a fun read considering that Oceanic bands tend to be incestuous and prolific (it’s also a rabbit hole to go down if you want to see if you can chart the aforementioned incestuousness of Aussie rock bands). Drummer James Baker and guitarist Raj Radalj were founding members of the Hoodoo Gurus and everyone in the band has about a hundred connections to other Australian rock bands with amazing names (The Punjabbers, Love rodeo, The Smokin’ Eldorados, The Eternal Teenagers, The Beasts of Bourbon, Spectre’s Revenge, the Surfin’ Caesers, and that’s just a few from the dudes in the 1988 line-up (the Dubrovniks’ had a few personnel changes over the years and the dudes in the band also had like five side projects a piece)).

Here's Alvin Stardust's original version of "My Coo Ca Choo." Look at that LEATHER!

The Dubrovniks - "Fireball of Love" 7"

The Dubrovniks – “Fireball of Love” 7”

Citadel, 1988

Acquired: Love Garden Shotgun Room, Used, 2008

Price: $.25

 

I feel like I can’t say enough nice things about the alternative rock that came out of Australia and New Zealand in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Not all of it is great or terribly original, but almost all of it is at least good. Australian alt-rock always seems a bit more conventional than New Zealand’s (which is quirkier and has more willingness to experiment) but there’s this sort of wonderful tone to all the records that came out of Oceania at that time. The Dubrovnik’s hailed from Sydney and take their name from the Croatian town bassist Boris Sujdovic and guitarist Raj Radalj we born. “Fireball of Love” and B-side “If I Had a Gun” sound remarkably fresh for being recorded 25 years ago. Maybe I’ve been listening to too many 7”s that sound like they were recorded in basements, bedrooms, and closets, but the production on this one is very clean and manages to avoid almost all of the cheesy production maneuvers that plague mainstream late-80s rock music. “Fireball of Love” has only the slightest bit of that soft-focus feel, but it also has real pianos peppering the choruses instead of synthesizers and the vocals aren’t processed to death. “If I Had a Gun” has a rockabilly vibe that really works because the song is so short (1:40). Both songs are really short, and I’ve become sort of a lobbyist for economical pop music in recent years. Unless you are pulling out some stylistic tricks, there is really no reason to keep repeating verses and choruses until your song hits the four-minute mark. Or the three-minute mark, even. If your song repeats on itself after two minutes (give or take a bridge to make it sound like you’re not just stretching the thing out to beat the melody into the head of the listener), just cut it off at two minutes. I find that crafting a short song with replayability value is much more desirable than making a long song that is going to make someone never want to listen to it again because it’s boring. Even though the Dubrovniks break no new ground, I listened to each side at least four times and wanted to go back for more.

The Flying Burrito Brothers - The Gilded Palace of Sin

The Flying Burrito Brothers – The Gilded Palace of Sin

A&M, 1969

Acquired: Half Price Books, Used, 2013

Price: $5

 

Gram Parsons is like the John Cazale of Rock and Roll. John Cazale made five movies in the span of six years before his tragic death from cancer at the age of 42 in 1978. Those five movies—The Godfather, The Conversation, The Godfather: Part II, Dog Day Afternoon, and the Deer Hunter—are all considered masterpieces. Despite Cazale’s genius, he was only nominated for a lousy Golden Globe for Dog Day Afternoon and is one of those unsung geniuses of modern cinema. Though unheralded, you could argue that his presence in those films pushed them into that higher realm of cinema. Someone who’s influence and consummate professionalism raised the bar for everyone around him (this according to Meryl Streep, whom he was dating at the time of his death).

In 3/5 of his films Cazale plays a sort of foil to Al Pacino. They were best bros, etc. However, as brilliant as Pacino is (especially in Dog Day Afternoon, my favorite of Cazale's films and a film you should seriously watch asap because it is magnificent), you get the impression that Cazale is kind of raising the bar for everyone around him. 

Gram Parsons made (or was involved with) five albums in the six years before his death via drug overdose in 1973 at the age of 26. Though death by drug overdose is a bit less tragic than cancer, it’s tragic nonetheless, especially if you factor in Parsons’ influence and youth. Though one of those five aforementioned albums (International Submarine Band’s Safe as Houses) isn’t a widely acclaimed masterpiece, the other four—the Byrds’ Sweetheart of the Rodeo, The Flying Burrito Brothers’ The Gilded Palace of Sin, and his two solo albums GP and Grievous Angel—are like the ten commandments of alt-country, country rock and pretty much anyone who sings with a little bit of twang. (He also dated Emmylou Harris who, in my head, is sort of like the Meryl Streep of country music).

Effectively, I feel like The Gilded Palace of Sin is Parsons trying to make his own Sweetheart of the Rodeo (with ex-Byrd Chris Hillman in tow nonetheless). Half the time it sounds like a Louvin Brothers tribute album or a general love song to the sad bastards who invented country and western music, but then there’s all this weird shit like the marijuana leaves on Gram Parsons’ suit on the cover. Just look at these guys! WEIRDOS. That’s the first thing I think when I look at this record. A bunch of weirdos with some sketchy chicks. What was this photo shoot like? It’s all so posed. And what the fuck is Sneaky Pete doing? He LOOKS like a guy you would call Sneaky Pete (and not in a fun, affectionate way). He looks like he’s got some secrets. I prefer Parsons’ solo albums to The Gilded Palace of Sin, but I can’t really deny the album’s influence on a hundred or so bands I love. I went on a serious alt-country kick circa 2005 and I know Wilco/Uncle Tupelo, Whiskeytown, and probably even up through the Silver Jews and any other band I love that ever broke out a pedal steel. Despite all of the throwback-filtered-through-new-weirdness vibe the album gives off, the insertion of socio-political subject matter (draft dodging on “My Uncle,” for instance) dates it in a really fantastic way. It’s really the era it was released in that makes this record so special. It’s modern and yet plays like a torchbearer for the country greats. 

The Make-Up - "R U A Believer" 7"

The Make-Up – “R U A Believer” 7”

K Records, 1995

Acquired: K Records Mailorder*, New, 2008

Price: ~$1

 

From what I can remember, this was part of a four 7” bundle that I bought because I was buying a sticker, a key chain, the Built to Spill/Marine Research Air Mail split and of course the K Records badges that adorned my hoodies from 2008-2011 (they have since rusted or vanished, but I think there is one still floating around in a box of stuff I can’t bring myself to throw out). I forget which other 7”s came with this weird little set, but I’m sure I’ll remember as I encounter them. I should note, this one was filed under D because it says “Dub Narcotic Disco Plate” at the top and since I just realized this mistake after I started writing, it’s just gonna stay in the Ds forever. Not that I am ever going to listen to it again. It’s basically useless. I can’t really say anything about the Make-Up’s discography as I haven’t listened to a single one of their albums and considering the big time indie rock royalty listed as producers on their Wikipedia page (Calvin Johnson (who I’m pretty sure produced this little number and appears on backing vocals on the b-side, which is just a different version of the utterly senseless “R U A Believer”), Ian MacKaye and basically the majority of Fugazi, Royal Trux, etc, etc, etc) they’re probably worth at least a damn. But this single is rubbish. But there’s also a whole heap of shit I don’t know about the DC post-punk/post-hardcore scene so I’m not really one to talk. My guess is that this cut is meant to be totally innocuous and obnoxious.

*There’s a little squid stamp on the sleeve, which makes me think that maybe this came from the Love Garden Shotgun Room, as the squid stamp is the way their mark for cheap, not-good-enough-to-put-out rekkids.

Rodriguez - Cold Fact

Rodriguez – Cold Fact

Light in the Attic, 2008 (Originally released on Sussex, 1970)

Acquired: Half Price Books, Used, 2013
Price: $8

 

One of my favorite feelings in the world is the "How have I lived this long without listening to this album 100 times? I feel like an idiot for not loving this all along!" feeling. Right now, that strong emotion is coursing through my veins in response to Rodriguez's Cold Fact. It's not like I was unaware that it was a cool thing when Light in the Attic rereleased it in 2008. I'm fairly certain it was all over KJHK although that whole period is a blur. I knew some folks who were way into Rodriguez. The MP3s were in my iTunes and for some reason the only one I ever played or put on mixes for myself was "Rich Folks Hoax,” which I liked but almost exclusively as a curiosity. I had gotten really into Bob Dylan and sort of flirted with the folk music of the 60s and 70s but never really gave too much of a shit to absorb complete discographies. It was a period of musical parasitism.

I feel like I’ve been living in a golden age of music appreciation since I left college. Not that working at KJHK was a bad thing, because if I could work there forever I would work there forever no question. It was my dream job, it still is my dream job. The problem was when I was 24 and 25 I tried to listen to too much music. It all got blended together and I could never really stick on one thing for too long. If I did, it most likely made one of my expansive year-end lists (and even then, the back half of those were albums I listened to a few times, really liked, and added to make the lists longer). I was lucky enough to get to this copy of Cold Fact before the rest of my record-vulture brethren at HPB St. Paul. Seeing Searching for Sugar Man a month or two ago, I was reminded that “Oh yeah, Rodriguez exists,” listened a few times on iTunes and basically said to the universe “Man, I wish I had this album on vinyl. Can you make that happen World Turtle?” And there you go. It’s a big, think, beautiful slab of wax. I know vinyl collecting is half fetishism, but having grown up on cassette tapes, CDs, and ultimately MP3s, it’s the only way I like to buy music. I can’t justify spending “$15 on a shiny piece of plastic” (quote: the hidden track on Limp Bizkit’s Significant Other, which I bought on compact disc when I was thirteen). Having Rodriguez on vinyl is total fetish though. My heart started beating faster when I saw it on the new arrivals shelf. And the more I listen to it, the more I am thankful that he didn’t become a superstar. He’s a brilliant songwriter, and his knife for social commentary is sharper and more believable than Bob Dylan’s. But in Searching for Sugar Man Rodriguez seems happy just to learn that he’s appreciated in places as remote as South Africa and Australia. Which of course makes him that much more legit. Someone who (at least in the film) gives all his money away. Someone content to just work construction and play music for himself. I feel like there’s some myth making at work in Searching for Sugar Man, but I still came away from it feeling like Rodriguez was kind of mythical. Which was awesome because so many people try to come across as mythical or enigmatic and they’re really just pretending, but since Rodriguez has no success to hang any fakery on, and considering that he still lives in a shit hole in Detroit, it seemed real. I’ll buy that myth any day.

The music on Cold Fact is just fucking awesome. So fucking awesome. Unbelievably fucking awesome and diverse and full of lines that just make you want to tear out your hair they’re so good and relevant and timeless and smart. It sort of reinforces the fact that people make great music all over the place and YOU ARE MISSING IT. I have always loathed that idea that you have to move to New York or Los Angeles to make it in the music industry. Yeah sure you can be some neo-cock rock band or some soulless hype machine oiler, but honestly you can do this shit anywhere if your songs are good enough. And sure you might be forgotten, but if you have any talent and are willing to sell out whatever talent you might have for a Coke commercial you might as well just give up on anyone taking you seriously. I digress. The thing with Cold Fact is that this record is 43 years old and sounds fresher than any folk record that has come out in the past year. If you can even call it a folk record. It almost feels outside the realm of description. It reminds me a lot of Love’s Forever Changes, in that it does something familiar but in a wholly unfamiliar way and is thus seen as a sort of curiosity until years and years later when everyone realizes that Love and Rodriguez were haplessly playing the long game. The “They’ll only appreciate me when I’m dead” game, which is a noble game to play but a goddamn frustrating one to the bands who have to play it.

You can conveniently listen to Cold Fact in its entirety right here. Whether you've never heard it before or heard it a hundred times, I feel like this one is always a treat.

Drill - "Happy Home" 7"

Drill – “Happy Home” 7”

Flying Nun, 1994

Acquired: Love Garden Shotgun Room, Used, 2008

Price: $.25

 

Sarah, Harriet, and Flying Nun. If a 7” is on that label, I’m going to buy it if it’s not too expensive. Even if it is too expensive, I’ll probably still buy it if I want it bad enough (See: That Brighter single I paid $12 for. $12! For a single! I hate to imagine what would happen if I came across a Sarah Records single I really loved). One of my favorite things about Flying Nun Records is the sort of quality guarantee you get from the crudely drawn logo on the back of the sleeve. It might not be great, but it will at least be worth a listen. The best government-backed alternative pop music you’re gonna find anywhere! With Drill, the guitars chime just the way you would expect the guitars on a Flying Nun release to chime (on the b-sides at least, the main riff sounds like hard rock played by a dude with a chin beard). They don’t rollick as much as, say, Abel Tasmans and they don’t even bother with the anthemic qualities of The Clean or the Chills. What they do is sound like is a first-generation post-grunge band pitting hard rock and indie pop against each other. “Happy Home” is tuneful, but the verses are a little menacing (with that aforementioned chin beard riff) but the choruses lighten up (with the aforementioned chiming of guitars). The end result is something dated, but also pretty good. It’s of the quality I was hoping for when I was buying 7”s for a quarter. From what I can tell, Drill released a 17 song full-length a year later which featured the three tracks here. Of the trio only vocalist/guitarist John Pitcairn released anything post-Drill (with the Letter 5 and Ballon D’Essai, both on Flying Nun natch). Finding info on Pitcairn is difficult as he shares a name with a decorated British Naval Officer who is also, I must assume, has something to do with the Pitcairn Islands (note: It was his son, Robert, who was involved with the islands. John Pitcairn was involved with the Revolutionary War! There is a famous painting of his demise!) My friend Chris got obsessed with the Pitcairn Islands many years ago. “Look!” he would say. “They had a civil war over who had the right to distill their national drink: Sweet Potato Liqueur!” “Look!” he would also say. “The internet is only available at the top of a mountain!”

Since I can't find a single Drill recording or video (their name is practically unGoogleable), here's that famous Death of Pitcairn painting. That's Johnny Pits right there, all dying and stuff.

Charlie Dold - "Sins on My Shoulders" 7"

Charlie Dold – “Sins on My Shoulders”

Bus Stop, 1991
Acquired: Love Garden Shotgun Room, Used, 2008

Price: $.25

 

I think the tribal-art looking iguana on the cover of this 7” is what made me think Dold was Australian. That’s gotta be it. I like this record a lot more than the “Any Poet’s Dream” 7”. Well, “Sins on My Shoulders” is the best of the lot. The two tracks on the B-side grate a bit. The songs aren’t really any shorter, but the melodies remind me less of cheesy 80s pop. It’s an artifact from a weird era. The year of Nevermind, and here you have this dude from a Midwestern college town churning out these lo-fi poppy indie rock tunes that are kind of stuck between stations. I feel like kids today are trying to replicate the sound these songs have when at the time this was probably the best Mr. Dold could do. It’s a great sound. It sounds raw and a little disorderly but that’s what gives the songs their soul. Nowadays you record your song on your Macbook and dub it to tape to try to make it sound shitty. I think I read something about tape labels today. I must have. Every time I do I unconsciously go to this place where I just can’t understand why, and then I wonder if tapes possess the same sort of affectation as records. Or wanting to create something physical and analog because pressing to vinyl is expensive. Anyway, off topic because I don’t know what else to say about Mr. Dold.

Charlie Dold - "Any Poet's Dream" 7"

Charlie Dold – “Any Poet’s Dream” 7”

Bus Stop, 1991

Acquired: Love Garden Shotgun Room, Used, 2008

Price: $.25

 

When I was relieving Love Garden’s shotgun room of its alt-rock and college rock 7” records, Bus Stop was one of the labels that I was familiar with and I ended up buying every Bus Stop record I saw. The label was based out of Iowa City, and for some reason I thought Charlie Dold was from Australia when he’s actually from Urbana, Illinois. I have no idea where that idea came from. The tunes on this 7” are a little strange. They sound like they’re slightly sped up but I know they’re not. It’s just Dold’s high-pitched register. It reminds me a little of Gene Ween on the early Ween records. The songs are this odd blend of lo-fi underground rock with melodies that recall pretty much every band on the Valley Girl soundtrack (The Plimsouls, Sparks, etc). I’m just spitballing here though. The problem with the songs is that they’re all too long. Were they contained to two minute bites of lo-fi pop they would really work, but “Any Poet’s Dream” feels like it goes on for ten minutes and with Dold’s not exactly dulcet tones, it feels a bit agonizing.

Julie Doiron/Calm Down It's Monday - Split 7"

Juilie Doiron/Calm Down It’s Monday – Split 7”

K Records, 2009

Acquired: KJHK Music Staff, New, 2009
Price: $0

 

Jenny is a HUGE Julie Doiron fan. When I went to SXSW in 2009, shortly after we started dating, I went to see Julie Doiron and I think Jenny was almost mad. So jealous. The hardest thing for a singer/songwriter isn’t writing the songs or being a talented musician, it’s separating oneself from the throng of singer/songwriters who threaten to swallow you up. Julie Doiron is good at the songwriting and musicianship bits and has a lovely voice that is both sweet and earthy, but I think it’s the production that allows her songs to have space. To let her voice really breathe. It’s that and the fact that she’s been working in the trenches for years and is a total pro. From Eric’s Trip to that jawdroppingly great album she did with Phil Elverum and Fred Squire (Lost Wisdom, check that one out if you haven’t). Both of Doiron’s tracks on this split are from her album I Can Wonder What You Did With Your Day ("Oh Heavy Snow" and my favorite track from ICWWYDWYD "It's Nice To Come Home"), and since I don’t own that album I’m not bummed about that. It’s always a bummer when a single is just album tracks. SURELY YOU HAVE A B-SIDE SOMEWHERE! Even so, the Calm Down It’s Monday side is basically I two-track b-side (b-side like the song not like the actual side of the record) since it’s a duo comprised of Fred Squire and Julie Doiron. This was their only release. It’s really nice. Squire handles the vocals and I think he’s pretty good but it’s easy to see why he doesn’t sing much on Lost Wisdom (but Elverum and Doiron are pretty much vocal powerhouses in their own little way).

Here's the aforementioned "It's Nice To Come Home" which is a great example of the depth Doiron can achieve with something so simple.

From what I read, Calm Down It's Monday were working on a full-length that never materialized. Here's a live version of 7" track "Sweetest May," which is kind of sad because their stuff is really lovely.