Buzzcocks: Singles Going Steady

Until checking out Singles Going Steady from the EPFL, I'd never knowingly heard The Buzzcocks. Now, punk isn't really my thing, but still... I'm pretty embarrassed by this omission. It's like saying I've never heard Janis Joplin or LL Cool J or Soundgarden. You rock snobs out there know what I'm talking about; our smug personae are built upon the arrogant belief that we know more about rock than, well, anyone. Facing the fact that I've never heard one of the fundamental building blocks of punk rock forces me to accept that all of my self-righteous rants about music are nothing more than compensation for a very, very small record collection. It's so small, I probably couldn't even get a girl from the record store in the Towson Town Center to go out with me. We're talking tiny.

Anyway. This isn't about me, this is about The Buzzcocks.

On first listen, I was simultaneously blown away and disappointed. Let's deal with the disappointment first. This is simple pop-punk, before such a thing as pop-punk existed. It's snotty and fun and a little pissed off, kind of like The Ramones were. That's fine, but so what? How much snotty punk music does the world really need? Yeah, you're white and middle class and smart and gosh durnit, it's just not fair. Blah blah blah, whine whine whine, whatever. You're not the first person to discover sex or think your parents are kind of lame, so just shut up already and do something with all that money and intelligence and pearly skin with which you were cursed.

But I kept listening, because I wasn't only disappointed, I was also blown away. These songs are phenomenal. Pete Shelley either learned about music composition somewhere in his pre-Buzzcocks days, or he's got an innate talent and a gifted ear. When you skim away the snotty punk attitude and the unrefined surface, these songs are compositionally closer to The Beatles or The Beach Boys than they are to The Ramones. No, there's nothing like "Tomorrow Never Knows" or "Good Vibrations" on Singles Going Steady, but every single song has an enormous pop sensibility. Really, there's not a bad track on the album, and the best songs are as good as (or better than) any punk song ever written.

Music:
As much as I love ripping apart sub-par rock albums that are considered to be great, Singles Going Steady lives up to its reputation. Every track is good, if not great, and everything here stands up against anything that's come out in the subsequent three decades of punk. What's kind of neat about this album is that it wasn't recorded as an album; it's a collection of singles released between 1977 and 1979. Songs 1-8 are the A-sides, and 9-16 are the respective B-sides.

Packaging:
Don't even bother looking at it, because there's nothing worthwhile other than the track listing and the dates the original singles were released.

Listen if you like: Any punk band that's recorded an album in the past 30 years. But also listen if you like well-written songs with a fair share of attitude, because if you get past the angst, the music is on par with some of the greatest pop/rock ever written.

If it were food, it'd be: Fresh lemonade. Sour, sweet, delicious, and refreshing... all at the same time.

Herb Alpert's Tijuana Brass: Whipped Cream & Other Delights Re-Whipped

I can't imagine defending Herb Alpert's Whipped Cream & Other Delights as being anything more than, well, whipped cream. The original album from 1965 is light, Latin-jazz that was accessible in a world of bizarre artists who were pushing every musical boundary they could find. It sold a zillion copies, and the album cover has to be one of the most famous in the history of recorded music. It was safe music for a chaotic time.

As Whipped Cream & Other Delights Re-Whipped proves, it's tough to make a good remix album when the source material is full of empty calories and sugary-sweet safety. There's nothing with any substance here. This is dessert without a meal, and it's not even a good dessert.

Music:
Mocean Worker's version of "Bittersweet Samba" is probably the best track on the disc, but that's not saying much. Ozomatli, Medeski Martin & Wood, and Thievery Corporation are the only artists who bring their unique sounds to the remixes, on "Love Potion #9," "El Garbanzo," and "Lemon Tree," respectively. DJ Foosh's take on "Tangerine" isn't awful (but it's certainly not good), John King's nifty production tricks on "A Taste of Honey" can't save it from being dull, and with the exception of "Butterball," executive producer Anthony Marinelli's multiple mixes aspire to mediocrity.

Packaging: (Altered by EPFL.)
The photo is sexy, but it doesn't capture the vibe of the original. It's a cute update on a classic image, but the inside photo would've made a much better cover. The woman's body wrapping around the spine to the back cover is a nice design touch.

Listen if you like: Generic chill-out/lounge compilations.

If it were food, it'd be: Reddi Wip. It wants to be whipped cream, but it's a paltry imitation of the real thing.

The Cardigans: Super Extra Gravity

No matter how hard The Cardigans try to escape the sugar-coated pop of their 1996 breakthrough, First Band on the Moon, they can't get away from it. If Super Extra Gravity proves anything, it proves that The Cardigans are a very good pop band, even when they try not to be.

The songs on Super Extra Gravity are cloaked in disappointed words, melancholy melodies, and downtrodden chord progressions. They reek of loss and disappointment, not just physically and romantically, but also spiritually. Despite all this darkness, though, each song is a splendid example of The Cardigans' super extra poppiness.

Interestingly, when the band embraces their skills as pop musicians, they churn out their weakest tracks. "Godspell" is catchy, but the lyrics are predictable and the guitar solo serves no purpose. The undeveloped "Holy Love" launches directly into an awkward hook that never settles in with the rest of the song. "I Need Some Fine Wine and You, You Need to be Nicer" is the standout single on the album, but the lyrics fall just a bit short of successful.

But these three are the exceptions. "Little Black Cloud" is the best Pretenders song that never was. "Overload" possesses a yearning sweetness that is both sad and lovely. The upbeat "Good Morning Joan" is a fairly standard rock song that the band pulls off incredibly well. They saved the best for last, though: "And Then You Kissed Me II" is the musical antithesis of the band's breakthrough 1996 hit, "Lovefool," but its quiet pain is one of the Cardigans' greatest recorded moments.

Music:
The lyrics are decent, the arrangements are captivating, and the performances are excellent. Nina Persson's voice is as inviting as it has ever been, and it maintains the thin reediness that makes her singing so compelling. (Imagine the confident power of Chrissie Hynde combined with the girlishness of Cyndi Lauper.) While these songs don't coherently fit together the way 1998's Gran Turismo did, the ones that work contain a warmth and a quality that is unprecedented for The Cardigans.

Packaging:
The photos are contrived, and the subtle use of color doesn't convey anything special. The occasional black and white photo or plain white panel seem like an afterthought. The font makes the lyrics difficult to read. The cover photo expresses the tone of the music reasonably well, but the corresponding typeface is out of place. The photo on the back of the jacket is probably the best one in the package; it's still contrived, but there's a story in the woman's expression.

Listen if you like: Rilo Kiley / Jenny Lewis, The Pretenders, The Cardigans' Gran Turismo

If it were food, it'd be: The glass of cheap red wine that ended in divorce.

Herbert: Scale

If I didn't know about the brilliant madness behind Scale prior to hearing it, I would dismiss it as nothing more than run-of-the-mill R&B. And that might be Matthew Herbert's biggest failure with this album: it's a stroke of genius that comes across as a stroke of mediocrity.

Apparently, this album was recorded using 723 different samples. Drums were recorded underwater and in a hot air balloon, background noises were comprised of nearly 200 telephone messages, and one poor guy's barftastic expression outside of a London bar has been immortalized in the hallowed halls of house music. It's very cool stuff. As for the music: the vocals are smooth and sweet, the melodies ride on flowing chord progressions, the beats are subtle yet dancable, the arrangements are impeccably rich and full... and the whole thing is completely forgettable.

The problem is that Scale is all brains and no heart. As much as I admire Herbert's ambition, there are very few moments on the album where I feel anything. The political songs have all the anger of a love song by Chicago, and the love songs have all the heart of Chicago's political repertoire.

There are a few bright spots, though. The low-end melody on "Birds of a Feather" supports a pretty but unsettling vocal melody, and the entire track builds to a quiet climax that leaves me wanting more. "Just Once" is one of the few songs where the experimental nature of Scale shines through, and its marriage of non-traditional sounds to simple, catchy melodies makes it the most interesting song on the album.

Music:
I wonder if the critics who gave glowing reviews to Scale would have done so if they hadn't known about Herbert's methods. Whether the end result is pop or abstract, experimental music should be able to stand on its own, without a piece of paper to tell the listener why it's good. Most of Herbert's tracks sound like outtakes and b-sides from the heyday of West End or Casablanca, tracks that Larry Levan might have passed over in lieu of Billy Nichols' "Give Your Body Up to the Music" or Peech Boys' "Don't Make Me Wait." Scale lacks the sexy funk of early Prince, and even with Herbert's stellar arrangements, it lacks the romance of even the cheesiest tune from Barry White's Love Unlimited Orchestra.

Packaging: n/a (Missing)
The librarians at the EPFL were kind enough to photocopy the front and back covers, but there's no original artwork here. I imagine the booklet would be an invaluable companion, but I've never seen it so I don't know. The design on the actual disc looks neat but is virtually impossible to read, making it a perfect companion to the music: a neat idea that is more form than function.

Listen if you like: Early 80s R&B, Parade-era Prince, Larry Levan, experimental music in all of its many shapes.

If it were food, it'd be: A miraculous, organic, high-fiber, low-fat, fruit-filled, well-balanced, inexpensive new food that looks and tastes exactly like Wonder bread.

Tim Hecker: Harmony in Ultraviolet

I was driving along Washington Blvd. in West Baltimore at dusk when I first listened to Harmony in Ultraviolet. The pulse of the bass in "Dungeoneering" was perfectly synchronized with the flashing blue light of the police camera that watched over the drug dealers who worked the corners. The rose-tinted light of the setting sun shone on two hookers waiting for a passing car to stop and pick them up. It was a Moment, and no other music could have possibly fit as well as this did.

This isn't easy music. It's entirely instrumental, and it's a combination of electronic and organic sounds that come from both traditional instruments and found noisemakers. Hecker has an obvious appreciation for both pop song structures and classical theory. His arrangements are simple on the surface, but contain layers of complex harmonies, dissonant instrumentation, and subliminal rhythms. He creates an aural wall that is simultaneously impenetrable and inviting. For lack of a better comparison, Hecker's music is like finding the perfect featherbed tucked behind a maze of razor wire.

This is one of the best CDs I've heard from the consistently strong record label Kranky. They should be credited for supporting Hecker's vision, the EPFL should be credited for including this in their catalog, and most of all, Hecker should be credited for having the spark that led to Harmony in Ultraviolet's creation.

Music:
It's not music that most people will want to listen to everyday (if ever). But if you invite it in, it will wrap you in sound and create a surprising accompaniment to the most mundane events. Try it in the car, try it at home late at night, try it during dinner or sex, and try it in headphones while you're working. You can let it fade into the background if necessary, but there are adventures to be taken if you care to pay attention.

Packaging: (Altered by EPFL.)
The cover photo and the photos on the back are striking, but the original package was destroyed to fit into a jewel box. There is no booklet included with the EPFL version, but if there was one in the original release, I'd love to see it. It looks like it would offer an interesting glimpse into Hecker's mindset. Of course, sometimes with music like this, it's much better to leave the artist's vision behind and immerse yourself in your own mindset.

Listen if you like: artists on Kranky or Pehr records, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Brian Eno. Skinny Puppy fans who like the grating depths of albums like Ain't It Dead Yet but aren't addicted to the industrial rhythms might be drawn to Hecker's music.

If it were food, it'd be: a bowl of rice for a monk who is trapped in the heart of a city.

The New Cars: It's Alive!

I'm certain that former Cars members Ric Ocasek, Benjamin Orr, and David Robinson were spinning in their graves when they first heard this pseudo-reunion band. The fact that Ocasek and Robinson aren't even dead yet is a testament to how awful this album is -- and how intelligent they were for avoiding this stinker as if it were the rear end of a '74 Pinto.

It's Alive! is so bad that I'm not sure which aspect of awfulness to focus on. Should I look at Todd Rundgren's pitiful attempt to recreate the vocals of Ocasek and Orr? (He kinda sorta not-really pulls it off, except on "Drive, where he -- or maybe bassist Kasim Sulton -- sounds like an unshaven female impersonator.) Or do I look at Elliott Easton's shreddertastic guitar solos that reek of an insecure man who spent years standing in Ocasek's shadow? How about their need to record a "live" album at a private soundstage outside Los Angeles instead of on the road? Or maybe the generic 12-bar-blues of the newly composed "Not Tonight," with awe-inspiring lyrics like "So put me in your Blackberry / and I'll take your email."

So what's good about It's Alive!? Well, the only obvious thing is that it's very easy to spot which Cars songs (almost all of which were written by the absent Ocasek) haven't stood the test of time. "Candy-O," "You're All I've Got Tonight," and "Dangerous Type" are all songs that I remember liking, but they're relatively weak and their cracks really show in this context.

Music:
A more apt title would've been It's A Steaming Pile of Crap! The New Cars can't ruin pop gems like "Moving In Stereo" and "My Best Friend's Girl," but they have all the heart and soul of a cover band at a sports bar in Hagerstown. If you want to hear these songs, pick up one of the greatest hits collections from The Cars. I still feel cheated for the hour of my life The New Cars stole from me.

Packaging:
Completely generic, but competent. This is probably the edgiest thing that dodgy-jazz album cover designer Kurt Sievert has ever done.

Listen if you like: masochism; living in the past; attending high school reunions so you can mock people who live in the past.

If it were food, it'd be: those rotten leftovers in the back of your fridge that you brought home last year and then forgot about.

Blackalicious: Nia

Blackalicious makes me believe that musicians can make a difference in the world around them. If, by some bizarre and improbable chain of events, their music became ingrained in the psyche of Baltimore, this city would be better. More people would think about who they are and what they do, and would demand excellence of their children, their schools, their leaders, their neighbors, and themselves. Fewer people would get caught up in the small-minded violence that's resulted in a skyrocketing homicide rate and a generation of kids who believe guns are legitimate tools of negotiation.

With all that said, I'm a wee bit disappointed by Nia. That's probably not fair, because 2005's The Craft is one of my favorite albums of the past few years. Most artists get better with time, and I shouldn't expect Blackalicious to have had a fully formed vision on their 2000 debut, even if it was released after nearly a decade of 12" singles.

But I'm still disappointed.

There are some really good songs on Nia. "Cliff Hanger" sounds like a musical version of Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill movies, and suggests that maybe DJ Shadow and The Gift of Gab should've done those soundtracks instead of RZA. The various interpretations on "Nia" that are scattered throughout the album help to cement a theme while dabbling in different musical textures. "Shallow Days" and "As the World Turns" reflect a reliance on strength and spirituality that is desperately necessary as we begin the third decade of NWA-inspired thug-kill-thug idiocy. "Sleep" is a nice way to wind down into a mellow frame of mind, and it would have been an excellent way to close the album -- although "Finding" does work better as a closer, given the musical scope of the entire project.

The strong points are offset by songs that are almost -- but not quite -- special. "A to G" is fun, but it feels like the musical equivalent of a project that an art professor would assign to a freshman color theory class. "Dream Seasons" and "Smithzonian Institute of Rhyme" both have great grooves, but they fade into ambient background noise. Songs like these, songs that just miss the mark, are the rule on Nia, not the exception. (On a personal note, it's nice that they included Nikki Giovanni's "Ego Tripping (there may be a reason why)," because their interpretation is interesting and it will introduce her work to a new audience. But Giovanni irritates me. I heard her speak many years ago, and she came across as an arrogant pseudo-intellectual with poorly formed ideas who talked down to her audience. I don't do well with self-important elitists who feel the need to prove their superiority in front of 20 people at a bookstore in Jersey. Who knows... maybe she's come down from her ivory tower since then.)

Nia's baseline is set early, and the music never falls below that mark. It's consistent, and it's consistently good. It's just not as exciting or cohesive as what they would do a few years later.

Music:
If I hadn't heard The Craft first, I'd probably love this album. The production is strong, the words are creative, the messages are meaningful, and the music is soulful. Nia is a very good album, but it's a bit too self-conscious and contrived to reach greatness.

Packaging:
The artwork is striking. I love the studio shots, and the collage and color effects work well. I only wish they'd included lyrics.

Listen if you like: Jurassic 5, A Tribe Called Quest, DJ Shadow, Wu-Tang Clan, The Coup, Nikki Giovanni

If it were food, it'd be: I'm still waiting for that Blackalicious Burger at Soul Vegetarian.