What's New?: 6.22.2011

More musical odds and ends. . .





Gary Numan — Telekon (1980)

I avoided anything post-Pleasure Principle for years, again, because of what I perceived to be an authority (but which I now realize is just a source for good information — a place where I should probably just ignore the editorial views). I mean, sheesh, this is Gary arguably doing the Pleasure Principle part two. But hey, last I checked, the Pleasure Principle was pretty much a one of a kind, era-defining album. So, to have the same guy that did that do a not quite as good redux doesn't really strike me as a bad thing, altogether. And hey, I'm essentially right, because Telekon is basically the same sort of detached, exquisitely layered, early synth pop — all it lacks is the one knockout blow that Pleasure Principle had with 'Cars.' Telekon captures that epic keyboard mini-symphony sound that Pleasure Principle captured so well initially. It's not more produced or more shiny or lacking hooks or any of the usual cliches that usually apply to albums following huge hits. It does lack the one big hit, but that's only because I'm looking at it in retrospect. I imagine, if I was there in 1980, anticipating it after Pleasure Principle, I'd be pleased as punch with it. And, with the inclusion of mini-post-'Cars' masterpieces like 'I Die: You Die', 'The Aircraft Bureau' and pretty much the bulk of side two, I find no faults with this one. And, perhaps most importantly, I see myself going back to it often just because of the unfamiliarity of the material.

Gary Numan — Dance (1981)

And this one, also despite lacking a big 'Cars'-esque hit, should be as highly regarded as anything else in the early run of Gary Numan's catalogue. Sure, it mostly ditches the analogue synths and the adopts a very pronounced fretless electric bass sound, but that's just the thing, isn't it? For the first time since arguably Replicas, Gary is evolving and getting more interesting. There is a very slow, slightly dark undertone to the whole thing. But the sheer scope of the album has to be marveled at. There's not one, but two nine minute epics ('Slow Car to China' and 'Cry the Clock Said') that are just about the best things with Gary's name on them that I've yet heard. Overall, not my favorite Gary Numan album, but easily number two, just because of the new sounds it contains. There's shades of OMD, Japan and old Numan material on this album, combined with a new sense of ambition and a grasp on space and longing melodies. Cool stuff.

Led Zeppelin — Houses of the Holy (1973)

Probably the best synthesis of Zeppelin doing the hard rocker and folk rocker thing simultaneously. They got bloated after this, but for this album, everything feels genuinely exploratory and new. The fully successful integration of keyboards into songs like 'Rain Song' and especially 'No Quarter' only ups the ante in the debate of the people versus Led Zeppelin as original songwriters (hint, they certainly didn't nick those riffs from anywhere that I know of). They do fall back on the old blues cliches a time or two, but less than ever; especially for a Zeppelin album. I will begrudgingly admit that this is a damn good album, and probably the band's most diverse and just best overall.

Pink Floyd — Music from the Film "More" (1969)

More early post-Syd, pre-Dark Side Floyd. Arguably my favorite period of the band. I'm already a self-confessed fan of "mess" and/or "transitional" albums and the Floyd made a few of those in these years. It's got some more rockin', strangely garagey moments ('The Nile Song') alongside purely instrumental, nearly ambient goodness (the excellently floaty 'Quicksilver' and a lot of the second half of the album). So, yeah. Strange times and lots of druggy sounds. I dig it. The lyrics aren't as preachy as they would come to be and the music is a lot more interesting than the guitar jam-focused affair that the Floyd would become in a few years (not to say that that wasn't good for what it was; I just prefer a little more diversity for diversity's sake). Really good stuff; and, if nothing else, just goes to support my "Pink Floyd as early progenitor of post-rock" philosophy even more.

Echo and the Bunnymen — Crocodiles (1980)

No excuses for not having this one around previously (especially since I've had the rest of the band's 80's output in my collection for years). I recall hearing it, roughly ten years ago, thanks to Reno legend Chris Hubbell, ad nauseum. So I definitely recognized a chunk of the songs on the proper album. But, wow, when I go back and sit down with it: quite a striking debut, to say the least. It's like Joy Division swirled around with some outright psychedelic moments. Fantastic post-punk stuff and it's hard for me to grasp that this was only the band's first album and that they had so many more highlights ahead of them. A classic of its era, that's for darn sure.

The Comsat Angels — My Mind's Eye (1992)

Finally, a physical acquisition after years of only having it digitally. I will maintain the same thing that I have since I first heard it: it's overrated by quite a bit. The band doesn't help either. Going around, raving about how they just loved recording it. Yes, it's good. Very good in comparison to some of their previous albums, but it's not like this thing is even seeing Sleep No More or Fiction (and, in fact, I'd argue that the Glamour is actually the better of the Comsats' two 9o's albums). There's no bad songs here and this deluxe (or, more like, "revised") edition on Renascent is the definitive. It definitely sounds like the band trying to be less intentionally commercial, but it does have a bit of a cheesy sound at times (especially in the guitar effects). Still, it is very consistent and, for the first time, there are some downright rock out moments that finally fulfill the urge to do so that the band had seemingly had since its early days. Overrated, but still worth the time and money.

Ben Webster — See You at the Fair (1965)

Ben Webster was one of the grandaddies of bebop tenor sax and it took him a long time to finally be able to lead smaller group sessions. But when he finally was given the opportunity to do just that, he just started rolling out album after album after album of downright classics. Mostly leaning on the smooth jam/classy ballad side of things, he honestly never sounded better. I guess file this one into that same category because it is completely in line with the precedent with its conspicuous greatness. Hank Jones is ace on piano and Ben sounds downright godlike for most of the material. He plays these long, melodic runs that aren't necessarily flashy, but jeez oh man, are they inventive (and, not to mention, completely awesome). The best part about the music Webster was playing in the later years of his life is that it retained a strong blues influence, without sounding irrelevant. He was genuinely inspired during these years and I'd like to think that he mostly stuck to ballads because he was wanting to be purely melodic and intentionally beautiful (mission accomplished). This edition of the album on Impulse is the definitive, gathering up bonus tracks from a label sampler and the best of Webster's features on Oliver Nelson's More Blues and the Abstract Truth. Just glaringly awesome stuff.

The Cocteau Twins — BBC Sessions (1982, 1983, 1984, 1996)

This magnificent two disc set definitely presents the case for the Cocteaus as one of the quintessential post-punk bands to emerge from the whole thing. The first tracks here are from a John Peel session in mid-1982 that predates the release of the band's seriously underrated first album and they find them full in blazing, wah-wah'd out drum machine glory. The last of the 8o's sessions documented here finds them running through three tracks from Treasure about a month before the album was released and sounding like they had the absolute true believer faith in the material (in fact, I'd nominate the version of 'Otterley' as played here to be the definitive). The two sessions from the 9o's that round out disc two are nothing if not intriguing. They provide a view of the band's neglected later day material with a more immediate take and, despite the drum machine being absent, fit right in with everything else here. And, if nothing else —amongst a smattering of rarities— three of the Cocteaus absolute best songs ever get two renditions a piece (that'd be 'Hitherto', 'From the Flagstones' and the epic 'Musette and Drums'). Really spectacular stuff.

~Austin

What's New?: 5.19.2011 Part One

All dollar bin finds. . .



Led Zeppelin — Led Zeppelin IV (a/k/a 'Zoso' a/k/a 'Untitled') (1971)

Technically a re-acquisition, but never really heard with contemporary ears (read on for the full story). This would be the unidentified grey spine on the top of today's scan. I've really had a tough go of things with Led Zeppelin, honestly. I bought up their entire discography when I was twenty because I worked at a used record store and felt like I should dress it, if I was going to play the part. Never really got into it, honestly. Soon learned about all the stealing (or "borrowing" if you prefer it that way) they did and just couldn't jive with the longhaired rockstar attitude mostly. Fast forward ten years and I'm a Fairport Convention fan and kind of a lonely guy, so I'm prone to musical chance taking. Zeppelin IV for a buck? Why not? And guess what? Despite the stealing, despite Robert Plant's still kind of annoying screamy voice, I like it. It fulfills that "rockin' out" urge that I get every so often. I found Zeppelin III (easily the band's most "folky" album — a sure fit for me) at a thrift store (for seventy seven cents, no less) a few months back, so I've been taking that in as well lately. And I genuinely like it. I guess I can look past all the "borrowing" and rockstar posturing and just appreciate this (and III) for just really solid albums of a bunch of guys sitting in the studio just vibing off the same creative wave. I've been very outspoken in the past about how much I couldn't stand these guys, but, all along, I've been too much of a classicist to fully subscribe to that. Overplayed as it may be, you really do have to marvel at the outright scope of 'Stairway to Heaven.' It's essentially the first "power ballad" if you would like to apply that term. 'The Battle of Evermore' is the highlight for me because it takes the folk rock explosion and legitimately translates it to the hard rock crowd. Good stuff. Surprisingly.

U2 — Boy (1980)

October (1981)

and War (1983)

I've had a go of it with u2 over the years, as well. If you look at what they were doing and when they were doing it, it should have been a no-brainer that I should be into them. But, as I got into them in retrospect, I always had a hard time separating the band from the early 8o's from the Bono-led behemoth that I knew from the early and mid-9o's. A mixtape from Dave a while back (awesomely subtitled 'The Lillywhite Years' and fully consisting of material from these three albums) put me into a different train of thought entirely. Sure, I knew 'I Will Follow' and 'Sunday Bloody Sunday' already. But what about 'An Cat Dubh' (and it's awesome segue into the equally awesome 'Into the Heart') or 'Stranger in a Strange Land' or even 'New Year's Day'? Yeah, I fucked up by judging the band by its contemporary output and not their roots. All three albums are just undeniably strong post-punk. The Edge's guitar —with all of its Mike Oldfield, John Martyn and Vini Reilly influences— is just ace throughout all three albums. And while I find that I like the first album the best, October seems to me to be very underrated. Because it's the most consistent of the three, by far, It lacks the gargantuan highlights of the two albums that surround it, but it's the more listenable of the three albums, that's for sure. Still, as solid as all this stuff is, I give the ultimate nod to the first album, just based on pure sound. Any album with a side one that strong has to be the best something. I still prefer Unforgettable Fire (and, to a lesser extent, Joshua Tree) to all of these albums. But good god damn, pleased as punch to finally have them around at my whim.

Midnight Oil — 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 (1983)

and Red Sails in the Sunset (1984)

I've long-avoided Midnight Oil for some reason or another. I have an early teen memory of watching Peter Garrett flail around like a madman on Saturday Night Live and thinking something along the lines of, "Australia must be weird." Who can say no to spending two dollars on a band you've wanted to check out for years? Certainly not I. 10 is a good record, but overwhelming. I mean, sheesh, it starts with the weird paranoia of 'Outside World' erupts into the schizo rock of 'Only the Strong' and then moves into the dark jangle of 'Short Memory.' And that's just the first three songs! It does have a strong strummy alt-pop base to it all and it especially gets good on side two. But I think the band really got cluster-effingly great on Red Sails in the Sunset. It takes all the angry, liberal Cold War paranoia to its absolute extreme (just have a look at the cover) and the tunes are there with just about every track. It is very mazelike, as songs will end abruptly and the next song will begin almost immediately, but it's pretty darn seamless and the whole thing hangs together as an entire piece. The subject matter, by nature, is pretty dark and this all comes to head with the first three minutes of 'Jimmy Sharman's Boxers' sounding like something not that far off from the Cure's Pornography. Overall, two really solid albums that I feel like I've really only touched the surface of so far. It will take many more listens for these to fully absorb.

Dire Straits — Dire Straits (1978)

It's been said before, but it's relevant as hell, so why not repeat the same old stuff: Dire Straits, especially on this album, was like a classic folk rock band playing through a post-punk mindset and production philosophy. I mean, to hell with the rest of their catalogue. But, seriously, listen to Mark Knopfler's jangly twangy guitar sound. How can anybody not love the George Harrison-style slide guitar on top of low-key, tunefully wah-wah'd rhythm strums and a nearly ambient sensibility in the atmospherics? Seriously, what is it that makes the sound of this otherwise nice (and, admittedly, refreshing; especially in 1978) roots-rock album so engaging? I guess that's just it: the low-key, genuine and stripped down sound of the production. Maybe it's because Mark Knopfler was nearly thirty by the time he released this album, but he sounds downright past all of the hype. Seriously, is this the band's first or last album? I can't tell. Much like R.E.M., they certainly never made another album quite like it. The riffs are definitely indebted to the blues, but sometimes, like on the rightful standout 'Sultans of Swing,' they take on a weird, angular pattern that clearly betrays the album's origin. Mark Knopfler may have known every Dylan and Robert Johnson lick in the book, but he was (perhaps subconsciously) playing with the punks and their offspring in mind. So, ultimately, this may be the perfect album for people like me: the type who have a short patience for classic rock and the blues as interpreted by 60's/70's rockers, but who also do love to hear that thing when done right and, most of all —and most importantly— love the punk and the new wave philosophy. Because this album certainly has all of that.

Romeo Void — Never Say Never EP (1981)

Basically continuing in the vein of their classic first album It's A Condition. I've always been a big proponent of that album since I first heard it about a decade ago. And, unfortunately, it's somewhat of a (still) lost American post-punk classic. Like the good independent-minded band that they were, they kept on and released this EP the same year as their debut album. It's pretty much a continuation of that album, with a bit more of a sheen in the production. But still, wow at how good these four songs are. Could've taken some of these, switched them out for lesser moments on It's a Condition and had a really stunning album that would've competed with the post-punk goliaths. Instead, I hear it as another swipe at greatness by a band that simply didn't know any better than putting the lyric "I might like you better if we slept together" in their initial shot at the charts (wtf do I know — it's actually their most popular song in hindsight). The other three songs here have that awesomely dreary post-Joy Division dark jangle sound to them, all laced with Ben Bossi's appropriate new wave sax and Deborah Iyall's articulately bleak words on human interaction. The whole thing is great and really makes you appreciate the band as one of the unsung heroes of American post-punk. 415 Records: salute.

~Austin