Pete Lit

Just what the world needs, another...

Over at the Two Dollar Radio blog, Grace Krilanovich has some kind thoughts on bass players, both in general (" Guileless, a little bit mysterious, endearingly dorky; if they know what’s best for them they’ll be lurking in the shadows next to the drummer.") and the dual-bass band Dos of Mike Watt and Kira Roessler ("It’s a small music, origins stained with grief, and maybe a kind of romance too.")

If I was in a band (a big stretch, since I don't play any musical instruments) I'd definitely be the bass player. I don't have the pipes to be the singer or the charisma to be guitarist, and the coordination required to have three or four limbs operating independently yet still in sync that's required of a drummer is far beyond me. But I could probably (eventually) master playing the same bass chords over and over again, though I'd never be more than competent, nowhere near the league of Watt, Flea or Entwistle.

That subject line comes from a college-era memory that always gives me a chuckle. One of the record stores in Champaign, Record Swap, had a stairwell that was always plastered with flyers, primarily of musicians looking for bands, or vice versa. The one flyer that I remember best was from a bass player looking for a band, which had "BASS PLAYER" in bold letters and a picture of Jimi Hendrix. But the guy also added, in a wonderful bit of self-deprecation, several other words and a dialogue balloon, so that it looked like Hendrix was saying "Just what the world needs, another...BASS PLAYER." Priceless. If I had a band back then, I would have hired that guy on the spot.

Epitonic returns!

This is wonderful news. When we went suburban in 2000 and I inevitably drifted away from my earlier indie rock mania, Epitonic helped keep me at least marginally current in my listening. Most of the music that I first discovered during the Aughts - especially Ted Leo, M. Ward and Death Cab For Cutie - was via Epitonic. I'm not sure I'll embrace the site quite like before - it was basically my soundtrack while I worked from home for a few years, and I can't stream audio or download at my current job - but it will still be nice to have it back when I need a fix.

Ted Leo goes Broadway

Ted Leo And The Pharmacists -
"Bottled In Cork" (Official Video)
from Ted Leo and the Pharmacists

Beauty. Favorite line: "He died because he didn't believe in the power of punk."

Howlin' Wolf, "Smokestack Lightnin'"

Howlin' Wolf, 1965. This man was the absolute epitome of cool. I just found out that I missed the centenary of his birth - June 10, 1910, so sharing this vintage video is my way of rectifying my oversight. This song is a bit strange - Wolf identifies it as "Smokestack Lightning" and the instrumentation and melody are definitely that song, but the lyrics are different, sounding more akin to "Mystery Train."

David Masciotra

David Masciotra is a local guy (grew up in Lansing, went to college in Joliet and is now a grad student at Valparaiso) who has written the intriguing Working On a Dream: The Progressive Political Vision of Bruce Springsteen. Right now he's doing a blog tour to promote the book, with his first stop at Big Other this past Monday and upcoming stops here at Pete Lit (probably next week), What To Wear During an Orange Alert? and Mel Bosworth's blog, among others. He's also doing a reading tomorrow at Revolution Books (1103 N. Ashland Ave. in Chicago) at 7 p.m.

I haven't read the book yet but have heard nothing but good things about it, so it's definitely on my list. I've long been an admirer of Springsteen (I even owned his Nebraska LP in high school) if not an actual fan - I might have become one were it not for my freshman year roommate in college, who was not only a Springsteen fanatic but also a grade-A prick whom I genuinely hated. Every time I think of Springsteen I can't help also thinking of my roommate, whose memory will forever taint my impressions of the artist. I know that's not a rational reason to not embrace Springsteen during the past 25 years, but that's just how I am. Maybe Masciotra's book will draw me back into the fold.

Elliott Smith, "Independence Day"

One last July 4th reference here, from one of my favorite musicians. His voice is a bit ragged and he struggles to hit the higher notes, but still a great song.

That sound you hear is my jaw hitting the floor

Sure, I realize it's spread over three days, but dear gawd what a lineup.

Tournament of Tunes: Yo La Tengo vs. Lou Reed

Yo La Tengo, "Sudden Organ"
vs.
Lou Reed, "Last Great American Whale"

Interesting that these two bands would face each other, given what an obvious musical debt Yo La Tengo owes to Reed's Velvet Underground. Yes, of course dozen of bands owe that debt, but Yo La Tengo (especially in its earlier days) owes more than most.

"Sudden Organ" is somewhat of a musical departure for Yo La Tengo. James McNew forgoes his bass guitar completely, switching over to keyboards where he creates an eerie, droning figure that underpins the melody (like a bass does) and even gives the song its title. But the band's other distinctive elements - Ira Kaplan's moody tenor vocals and sharp guitar, Georgia Hubley's tom-tomming, Moe Tucker-ish drumming - are all here. The song doesn't really jump out at you, but is somehow still very effective. A solid song from what remains my favorite Yo La Tengo album.

What I love most about Lou Reed's New York is its directness - the bluntness of the lyrics ("I'll take Manhattan in a garbage bag with Latin written on it that says 'It's hard to give a shit these days'", "the Statue of Bigotry", etc.) and the in-your-face instrumentation. Unfortunately, "Last Great American Whale" is the least direct song on the album, both lyrically and instrumentally. The lyrics are highly metaphorical, telling a story that despite countless listenings I've never really been able to follow. Reed's vocals are subdued, with little of the emotional fire that marks his best work. And the instrumentation is barely even there - mostly a single guitar line and basic drumbeat. Narrative 2

While it has its intriguing moments, "Last Great American Whale" is just too much of a departure - lyrically, vocally, instrumentally - from Reed's greatest work. Though it's hard for me to knock out any song from New York, this one is probably my least favorite on the album. So I'm going with "Sudden Organ."

Winner: Yo La Tengo, "Sudden Organ"

Tournament of Tunes: A Plea for Forgiveness

I've been sorely remiss in keeping current with my latest Tournament of Tunes. Even in its abbreviated 16-song format I've totally let it slide, not posting any results for the past six weeks. I'm now vowing to not only resume the competition but to speed things up considerably, posting two or three of the remaining matches each week. So the tournament hereby resumes today, with Yo La Tengo taking on Lou Reed.

Roger Waters' Dick Move

Roger Waters once created a concept album called The Wall. Fine - it was a good album in its day. But its day was over thirty years ago, and yet Waters continues to flog it instead of creating something new and vital. Fine - this is a capitalist and democratic society, so Waters is free to bleed dry the unfortunate millions of fans who still care about Pink Floyd.

But now, in hyping the album yet again, his minions have defaced a beloved memorial to the infinitely greater Elliott Smith. Which would be bad enough, but in "apologizing", he has the audacity to claim that Smith - who Waters admits knowing almost nothing about - would have supported the idea. The Chicago Reader's Miles Raymer nails it:

This is, I think it's fair to say, a dick move: making assumptions about how a dead man you've never met and are only vaguely aware even existed might feel about having a memorial to his untimely death defaced by an ad campaign, and even implying that he would have given a thumbs-up to the campaign itself.

It's truly an unfair world when an underappreciated genius like Elliott Smith leaves us, while an over-the-hill, multi-millionaire, karaoke-machine d-bag like Roger Waters lives on.

Ben Folds

Julie and I used to regularly go to concerts back in our city-resident, pre-parenthood days: Bad Religion, Matthew Sweet, Archers of Loaf and Built to Spill (the best double bill I've ever seen), Seam and Versus, Yo La Tengo. But moving to the suburbs and becoming parents has made us more domesticated, and we hadn't seen a show for over ten years. But last night, in a belated celebration of her birthday (which was in February), we rectified that by seeing Ben Folds at the Vic Theatre. Ben is a longtime favorite of ours (in fact, we once saw him during his Ben Folds Five era, at Park West) who is one of the few artists that either of us has kept up with over the years.

Last night he delivered a great show, totally solo, which I enjoyed more than the Ben Folds Five show with full band. The latter was more bombastic and theatrical (albeit tongue-in-cheek, as he mocked numerous arena rock cliches) whereas solo he seemed more intimate (with charmingly funny banter between songs) and more focused on the music. He played songs from throughout his career, including many I hadn't heard before. (He admirably refrained from doing "Brick" which is still his best-known song and one that I love, but is probably one he's grown tired of performing.) Two highlights for me were "Philosophy" (still beloved after all these years) and "Still Fighting It" (as a dad, the line "you're so much like me...I'm sorry" has particular relevance for me) but pretty much every song was great. He's also really into the whole acapella thing too, concluding the show by stepping away from the piano and directing the audience in a three- or four-part harmony. Terrific music, terrific showmanship. Check out Ben Folds when you get the chance.

Two other highlights from our evening: an unexpected detour to our favorite restaurant, Rose Angelis, for dinner, where I throughly enjoyed my old standby rotini alla puttanseca and Julie had a marvelous special of pear-stuffed ravioli; and the discovery of another used bookstore, Gallery Bookstore, which I'm sure we'll be returning to soon.

All in all, a great evening.

Tournament of Tunes: The Minutemen vs. Tom Waits

The Minutemen, "Corona"
vs.
Tom Waits, "Never Let Go"

I love what "Corona" says about the Minutemen. Despite generally being known as a hardcore punk band, they were much more than that, moving effortlessly into other realms, including funk, free jazz and straightforward rock, and with "Corona" they showed how far they were willing to push the envelope. As I mentioned earlier, the song is cowboy hoedown music (or, as Allmusic.com suggests, "neo-Norteña polka"), and I enjoy imagining the reaction (likely, offended) of the L.A. hardcore crowd to the song back in the band's heyday. Sure, the band's more open-minded fans would have loved it, but the zealots probably resented the departure from the party line. (I'd also love to know what the zealots thought of the Van Halen and Steely Dan covers alongside "Corona" on Double Nickels on the Dime.) This song is a statement of artistic freedom, and quite a fun one at that.

"Never Let Go" shows the softer side of Tom Waits. For most of his career he's adopted the persona of a ragged boho troubador, sometimes slightly deranged, other times wistful and melancholy. The instrumentation here is quite lovely, starting with a simple piano figure that is joined by subdued strings and a mournful accordian, all underpinned by a moderate martial drumbeat and of course Waits' marvelously evocative growl of a voice. The tune is nothing short of majestic, and one of my very favorites of my admittedly limited knowledge of Waits' oeuvre.

"Corona" is great, but "Never Let Go" is greater. In what is very much a battle of the titans, Waits ekes out a decision and moves ahead to the semi-finals.

Winner: Tom Waits, "Never Let Go"

Tournament of Tunes: Sebadoh vs. R.E.M.

Sebadoh, "Got It"
vs.
R.E.M., "West of the Fields"

I think Bakesale is the album on which Jason Loewenstein first hit his artistic stride. On the previous Sebadoh album, Bubble and Scrape (a wonder in its own right), he seemed like the new kid on the block, cautiously occupying the middle ground between Lou Barlow's sensitive lyricism and Eric Gaffney's sonic anarchy. On that album, Loewenstein sometimes sounds like Barlow, sometimes like Gaffney. But by the time of Bakesale, Gaffney had left and Loewenstein stepped to the forefront (admittedly a secondary forefront, as Sebadoh was always Barlow's band), and "Got It" is a prime example of what he's musically capable of.

Musically - that is, instruments and vocals - I love "West of the Fields." There's Stipe's lonely wail of a voice, of course, but also the brisk, driving rythym, Peter Buck's guitar work and the backing vocals of Mike Mills in the chorus. But though the title has a nice evocative quality - what, exactly, is to be found west of the fields? - the rest of the lyrics are either too undiscernable or vague to convincingly back up the title. And it's not just a case of early-period R.E.M. and its penchant for lyrical obscurity. Many other songs on the great Murmur, especially "Shaking Through" and "Sitting Still", are equally as inscrutable and yet have some sort of emotive quality that never fails to imbed the songs deep into my soul. In short, I don't really connect with "West of the Fields" as much as I do to most of the rest of the album.

Hard to believe that tunes from neither Slanted & Enchanted nor Murmur will go no further than this round, but that's precisely what's happening here. "Got It" advances.

Winner: Sebadoh, "Got It"

Tournament of Tunes: Dumptruck vs. Pavement

Dumptruck, "Autumn Light"
vs.
Pavement, "Perfume-V"

The narrator of "Autumn Light" is paralyzed by stasis. He lives a dissolute and likely meaningless life, and though well-meaning friends urge him to "get out of here" and try to change for the better, still he sits and does nothing. While he realizes that doing nothing and simply waiting around for change will lead nowhere, still he sits, questioning his (ex-?) lover for her abandoning of everything she's started - as if he's some sort of beacon of perserverance - and wondering where he would go and what he would do next in the unlikely event that he attempted a move. Some unsettling questions indeed.

Narrative is very hard to follow in Pavement songs, that is, if there's any narrative there in the first place. Part of that is due to the lo-fi production, which mostly buries the vocals and gives them no more sonic prominence than, say, the bass, and part of it is Steve Malkmus' lazy vocal delivery. But like early R.E.M., it's likely that even if Pavement's lyrics could be discerned they still might not be comprehensible. Malkmus, like Michael Stipe, might just be willfully vague.

Though it's impossible to deny the sonic thrill of "Perfume-V", its lyrics are just vague enough to keep me from fully engaging with the song. But the lyrics of "Autumn Light" draw me into the narrator's plight, and even if I don't particularly admire what I see there I still find the experience compelling. And because of that, Dumptruck moves on to the semifinals.

Winner: Dumptruck, "Autumn Light"

Tournament of Tunes: First Round Update

The first round of the 2010 Tournament of Tunes has now ended, with Dumptruck, Pavement, Sebadoh, R.E.M., The Minutemen, Tom Waits, Yo La Tengo and Lou Reed all advancing. Interesting how many big names are there (with the exception of the comparatively unknown Dumptruck) which I suppose is due to the smaller 16-song field. With 64 songs there would have been more entries, a greater variety of artists and potential for major upsets, though there would have also been strong potential for my abandoning the entire contest only halfway through.

To whet your appetite for the next round, I considered handicapping the field, but given that I'm the sole arbiter, that might prematurely reveal who I'm leaning toward and thus eliminate much of the reader's suspense. So instead I'll simply list which year each artist first entered my record collection in full-album form, which you're welcome to interpret any way you like.

R.E.M.: 1986
Dumptruck: 1989
Lou Reed: 1989
Yo La Tengo: 1992
Pavement: 1994
Sebadoh: 1994
Tom Waits: 1996
The Minutemen: 2007

I'm taking the rest of this week off to recharge my judicial batteries, and will resume with the Dumptruck-Pavement contest on Monday. Stay tuned.

Tournament of Tunes: Joel R.L. Phelps and the Downer Trio vs. Lou Reed

Joel R.L. Phelps and the Downer Trio, "From Up Here"
vs.
Lou Reed, "Last Great American Whale"

Joel R.L. Phelps is one of my favorite musicians - a sharp guitarist, skilled songwriter and idiosyncratic singer. He first got my attention as part of Silkworm, the band which he co-founded before leaving in the mid-nineties for a solo career. His solo work is considerably lower-key than the more raucous Silkworm, but he rocks out as much as he needs to, though he generally sticks to slower, quieter, more moody material. "From Up Here" is from the most recent Downer Trio release, Customs, which came and went without much public notice. A shame, given what a memorable record it is. The song is minimalist, with drums sticking to a metronomic 1-2-3-4 beat, bass and acoustic guitar playing straight chords with occasional lead guitar flourishes, and lyrics told from the perspective of a soldier. (An interesting narrative turn, as the album's theme is anti-war.) But though I admire the song, I would have liked a little more fire here. The song simmers without ever boiling over; Phelps restrains his caterwaul of a voice. The emotion and passion of Phelps' best work is still there, though mostly held in check.

It's hard for me to speak objectively about Lou Reed. And even harder for me to say anything about his long, high-profile, iconic career that hasn't been said hundreds of times already. I'm a longtime admirer, of both the Velvet Underground but especially his solo work (interesting as it is, the VU was just a bit too avant-garde for me to fully embrace) and this song comes from my favorite album of his, New York. The 1989 album is a manifesto, screed and selective survey of his home city which combines sympathy for the downtrodden with righteous scorn for the indifferent figures who hold power - all of it set to muscular musical backing of two guitars, bass and drums, and of course Reed's timeless sing-speak vocals. "Last Great American Whale" is one of the quieter songs, with lyrics which are an odd blend of plainspoken rant (about environmental degradation) and abstract metaphor (about an Indian chief, a whale, a racist kid, an errant-shooting NRA member - all of which might also be about the environment, though I can't say for sure).

I'd love to advance Joel Phelps to the next round - if just to give him a small sliver of the public recognition he deserves but has mostly been denied - but his song just doesn't completely light my fire. And all of New York has been burning in my head, out of control, for more than twenty years.

Winner: Lou Reed, "Last Great American Whale"

Tournament of Tunes: Yo La Tengo vs. Kevin Salem

Yo La Tengo, "Sudden Organ"
vs.
Kevin Salem, "Will"

Yo La Tengo was probably my favorite band during the 1990s, after discovering them in 1992. But for whatever reason they lost me around the time of their 2000 release, And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out, an atmospheric, almost ambient departure from their previous, more guitar-based work which I loved at first before drifting away from. And as I drifted from the album, I drifted from the band as well. Which is a shame, because they put out some really great tunes during the nineties that I still greatly enjoy, "Sudden Organ" (from Painful) being one of them. The song has such a great vibe - insistent guitar, droning keyboards instead of bass, low-tuned tomtom drums - that makes it easy to love. 

Kevin Salem has garnered some accolades as a producer (of albums by Giant Sand, Freedy Johnston, Madder Rose and many others), side musician (he replaced Kirk Swan as guitarist in Dumptruck) and occasional solo artist. "Will" is from his debut album Soma City and is the best song to be found there. A pounding drumline and loud guitars (louder than most of the other songs on this fairly subdued record) make for a very vigorous sound that mostly covers up Salem's limited vocals. The lyrical message is terrific - a man pledging his eternal friendship and even love to a woman who seems to have spurned him for someone else.

"Will" is a real rouser, but I have to give the nod to Yo La Tengo.

Winner: Yo La Tengo, "Sudden Organ"

Tournament of Tunes: Tom Waits vs. Morphine

Tom Waits, "Never Let Go"
vs.
Morphine, "You Look Like Rain"

Despite the length of his career - pushing 40 years now - Tom Waits isn't well-represented in my collection - just Orphans, Swordfishtrombones and a handful of mp3s from later albums. But, wow, is Orphans a great collection, which more than makes up for the lack of quantity I own of his work. Sure, an artist of Waits' immense talents will inevitably have some absolute gems spread over the course of a three-disc set like this, but the quality level here is astounding, especially on the the ballad-heavy first disc (referred to as "Bawlers"). "Never Let Go" is simply gorgeous, much more stately and majestic than you might otherwise expect from this often-ragged troubador. A great song.

"You Look Like Rain" was just the second Morphine song I ever heard, on the great community radio station WEFT in Champaign, Illinois during the early 1990s. Although I enjoyed the song's sultry, low-key vibe from the start, it's telling that I never saved it to one of the mixtapes I was so fond of compiling back then. (Which I did do with the first Morphine tune I ever heard, "The Other Side", also from WEFT.) In fact, though I was already a fan then of Mark Sandman from his Treat Her Right days, those two songs didn't compel me to seek out Morphine's debut album, Good, on which they appeared, with the band not knocking me over and winning my heart forever until their second release, Cure For Pain. So my initial hesitation foreshadows my current muted reaction to "You Look Like Rain." Sure I like the song - there's only a few Morphine songs that I don't like - but it's just a bit too subdued to completely win me over. Sandman sings barely above a whisper, and Dana Colley's sax isn't much louder.

I own every Morphine studio album, and the band is one of my absolute favorites. (I'm even writing a novel about an obsessive, overly-empathetic Morphine fan.) But I have to admit that "You Look Like Rain" just doesn't have the kick of the band's very best material, and certainly can't touch this Tom Waits tune.

Winner: Tom Waits, "Never Let Go"

Tournament of Tunes: The Minutemen vs. Red Red Meat

The Minutemen, "Corona"
vs.
Red Red Meat, "Gauze"

Though often referred to as a hardcore band, the Minutemen were musically so much more than that, throwing funk, classic rock and even folk into the mix. "Corona" is a great example, as it's practically hoedown music, with a brisk backbeat that I could easily imagine cowboys two-stepping to - and, yes, it's about that brand of beer. For the band the song is very straightforward, with none of the stop-and-start that so many of their other songs have. If you're never heard the Minutemen but the song sounds vaguely familiar, that's because it was used as the theme song for the old MTV show Jackass. A loveable gem (the song, that is, not Jackass).

After the major label feeding frenzy had mostly devoured Seattle after the Nirvana breakthrough, the music industry gazed longingly at other cities across the country, wondering which would be the next big "scene." In 1993 one of those cities was thought to be Chicago, which had plenty of buzz thanks to Smashing Pumpkins (Siamese Dream), Liz Phair (Exile in Guyville) and Urge Overkill (Saturation). After that inital surge began to wane, many held hope for a so-called "second wave" of Chicago bands to pick up the slack, one of which was this band, Red Red Meat. Ultimately, however, Chicago did not prove to be the next big thing (the Pumpkins stayed big, of course, but Phair and UO couldn't sustain their promise, and in retrospect probably too much was expected commercially of the second wave) and the industry's focus moved elsewhere. Which is a shame, because Red Red Meat put out some pretty solid (albeit not commercial) stuff back then. "Gauze" is languid and richly-textured, over five minutes long, with weary vocals that are evocative but mostly unintelligble (the only word I can pick out in the entire song is the first one, "medicated"), and impressive overall.

I like both songs quite a bit, but I'm going with the snappier "Corona."

Winner: The Minutemen, "Corona"

Tournament of Tunes: Teenage Fanclub vs. R.E.M.

Teenage Fanclub, "Catholic Education"
vs.
R.E.M., "West of the Fields"

Any doubts about how random the iPod's shuffle play is can now be put to rest. Though I have only five Teenage Fanclub songs on there (out of more than a thousand), up comes this one. I've always admired this song for its propulsive, shambling, crisply-strummed instrumentation, though on further inspection the song is actually pretty slight, particularly the lyrics which consist entirely of "You wanna turn your back on everything/you wanna turn your back on everyone/well I try." The song predates the harmony-laden power pop that the band would become best known for, and which I strongly prefer to this song. (Also, it's curious that the iPod served up this song on the same day that Alex Chilton died, as his band Big Star was a huge influence on Teenage Fanclub.)

"West of the Fields" is the closer to R.E.M.'s full-length debut Murmur. Hearing it right after the sonic bluster of "Catholic Education" makes "West" seem pretty subdued, but it's actually rousing compared to the exquisite but fairly low-key songs that precede it on the album. Michael Stipe's lead vocals are in typical early-career form, imparting more emotion than actual discernable words, and I particularly love how he and Mike Mills alternate phrases in the chorus. A solid effort, though admittedly not among my favorites on this great album.

Had the Teenage Fanclub song been "Star Sign" this would have been much closer, but I can't go against R.E.M.

Winner: R.E.M. "West of the Fields"

Alex Chilton

Farewell to an icon, and much too soon. In a saner and more tasteful world, children would have indeed sung by the millions for Chilton, as the Replacements once whimsically insisted. "September Gurls" will forever be one of my favorite tunes.

Tournament of Tunes: The Pogues vs. Sebadoh

The Pogues, "The Broad Majestic Shannon"
vs.
Sebadoh, "Got It"

Apparently my iPod knows exactly what day it is. It has to be more than just simple coincidence that the shuffle play served up "The Broad Majestic Shannon" on St. Patrick's Day. The song is the Pogues at their most traditional - highly conventional Irish folk with none of the band's trademark punk energy. It's spring, all is green, love is in the air, and the broken-toothed old lush Shane MacGowan sounds almost delicate and wistful. ("There's no pain, there's no more sorrow"? What's up with that?) The instrumentation is mannered, restrained, moderately paced. It's a very pretty song, one which would have served as a fitting finale to its album, If I Should Fall From Grace With God, the band's finest. But true to the band's incorrigable spirit, it's actually second-to-last, with the finale being the morbid dirge "Worms." While I admire "Shannon", however, the song just doesn't quite give me the thrill of many of their bolder tunes. Despite my love for the Pogues, this contest will be much closer than you might expect.

"Got It" is genuine Sebadoh: lo-fi production, distorted guitar, propulsive rythym, world-weary lyrics. And from my favorite Sebadoh album, Bakesale, besides. A very strong competitor indeed. Coincidentally, this song was also the band's entry in the 2006 Tournament of Tunes, where it made the regional semi-finals before falling to the mighty Built to Spill.

"The Broad Majestic Shannon", while lovely, could have been similarly performed by any number of traditional Irish folk bands and simply lacks the thrilling grit that made the Pogues so unique. Meanwhile, the Sebadoh tune is true to that band's spirit. Though I never thought it possible to eliminate the Pogues on St. Patrick's Day, that's exactly what I'm doing, and going with "Got It."

Winner: Sebadoh, "Got It"

Tournament of Tunes: Pavement vs. M. Ward

Pavement, "Perfume-V"
vs.
M. Ward, "So Much Water"

To anyone who knows anything about indie rock, Pavement needs no introduction. Nor does Slanted and Enchanted, the phenomenal album this song came from. But perhaps the song does need some elaboration, as it's not one I generally notice being cited when anyone mentions the album. Maybe because's it's located near the end of the album, maybe because the title doesn't seem to recur anywhere in the lyrics (I'm wondering if this sort of condition lowers a song's visibility for listeners, requiring fans to say "You know, the song with _____"), maybe because there's no obvious chorus. Whatever, this is a hell of a song, just over two minutes of buzzing guitars, dual vocals and typically opaque lyrics. As many times as I've heard this song, the only line I can cite from memory is "she's got the radio on/too bad it makes me feel okay/I don't feel okay" which should give you some idea just how opaque those lyrics are. And yet I love it. Slanted and Enchanted is one of those inexplicable works of art that nearly defies description, as does this particular song. You just have to listen.

M. Ward is a bit easier to explain. "So Much Water" is from his second album, End of Amnesia, all of which sounds like a modern-day updating of old-time mountain music from a craggy old codger. Except that Ward is a younger guy, possibly a hipster (I don't know if his trucker caps are worn ironically or not), who plays exquisite acoustic guitar and sings in a warm hush of a voice. "So Much Water" is one of the better songs on this fine album, full of reflection and regret (the full line that goes with the title is "...under the bridge") and of course that great guitar.

Ward's song is lovely, but it just doesn't have the elusive mystery and instrumental rush that "Perfume-V" does. Pavement it is.

Winner: Pavement, "Perfume-V"

Tournament of Tunes: Big Dipper vs. Dumptruck

ROUND 1, MATCH 1

Big Dipper, "The Beast"
vs.
Dumptruck, "Autumn Light"

Big Dipper is a late arrival to my record collection. For years all I knew of them was "He Is God" from the old Homestead Records compilation Human Music (a great disc that's really worth hunting down) and "Mr. Woods" as covered by the Gigolo Aunts on the Safe and Sound benefit compilation. Then after reading raves about the band's recent post-mortem anthology Supercluster and hearing a handful of intriguing tracks on the band's MySpace page, I finagled getting the anthology for Christmas the year before last. And am I ever glad I did. This is one of those great bands that inexplicably missed the limelight they deserved - big hooks, catchy lyrics, impossibly high energy level. Why they weren't as big as their Boston comtemporaries the Pixies, I'll never figure out. Anyway, Supercluster collects their first EP, their first two LPs and their final unreleased album Very Loud Array, which was ash-canned by the major label they unfortunately associated themselves with. (The anthology excludes their sole major-label release.) "The Beast" is one of the Array tracks, and has a nice crunchy guitar riff and the band's usual amount of infectious energy, but unfortunately isn't one of their better lyrical efforts. I'm not the biggest fan of songs that overemphasize the chorus at the expense of verses, which is what happened here - each chorus is simply the line "the beast shall come from the inside" repeated four times, and the chorus is sung three times. I would have rather heard more about the odd and likely warped romance that's taking place in a cabin in the woods that is described in the two verses, and less of the chorus.

"Autumn Light" is a typically moody and despondent tune by Dumptruck, from one of my all-time favorite albums, Positively. "Where am I to go now?" the singer asks, over and over, of his spurning lover but when he asks "How can you abandon everything that you've begun?" (one of those things presumably being the singer himself) it's not entirely clear if he's intent on moving beyond this impasse and getting on with his life, or if he'll instead wallow in pity. The music here is very effective - like many Dumptruck songs, it has that sweet-and-sour combination of bright instrumentation and dour subject matter, with a nice interplay of lead guitars.

Big Dipper was a great band and I'd love to advance them further here, but this song isn't one of my favorites of theirs. And certainly lesser than Dumptruck's. "Autumn Light" moves onward. (My apologies to Gary Waleik, who was kind enough to leave a thoughtful comment last time but whose band has now been twice bounced out of my tournament in the first round. Don't blame me - blame my iPod for not shuffling up "Younger Bums" or "All Going Out Together.")

Winner: Dumptruck, "Autumn Light"

2010 Tournament of Tunes

Four years ago I ran my first Tournament of Tunes, a single-elimination competition between 64 songs, each by a different band. Each weekday morning I let my iPod shuffle-play two songs which would be the matchup for the day. There was little objectivity to any of my decisions - most of the time I just went with my gut and my heart, and on many occasions an objectively superior song would lose out to an opposing song which I might have had a long fondness for or had special meaning in my life. In the end, Ted Leo's stellar "Loyal to My Sorrowful Country" topped Camper Van Beethoven's beloved "Sweethearts" to win the tournament.

All in all, it was a fun exercise that really made me think about songs in depth and why music means so much to me. On the downside, however, was the sheer size and duration of the tournament - 64 songs meant that for the finalists I would have to come up with new commentary on six different occasions, and often I found myself at a loss for fresh insight. Also, I let it drag out over six months, which was far too long to sustain its early momentum.

So I've decided to do another Tournament of Tunes, albeit in an abbreviated format - 16 songs. Otherwise the structure will be the same as last time, with the championship match coming sometime during the first week of April, or roughly the same time as the the NCAA tournament concludes. Ready? Alright then, let's move ahead to the first match, between two gone-but-not-forgotten Boston bands, Big Dipper and Dumptruck.

Montgomery Clift's "hold on the popular imagination"?

A NYT preview of a Montgomery Clift film retrospective makes a rather curious claim.

The title of a two-week BAMcinématek series that starts Thursday — THAT’S MONTGOMERY CLIFT, HONEY! — is an indicator of Clift’s hold on the popular imagination: it’s taken from the refrain of the Clash song “The Right Profile,” released on “London Calling” in 1979, 13 years after his death. (“And everybody say, ‘He sure look funny’/That’s Montgomery Clift, honey.”)

A 31-year old Clash song about Clift is pretty weak evidence of the actor's supposed current popularity and cultural relevance. It's even more dubious with a cursory examination of the song's lyrics - naturally, Joe Strummer's fanboy narrator can rattle off all of Clift's films, but the narrator also has to remind his companion exactly who Clift is (or was). So even back in 1979 Clift was no longer a household word, his popularity long since faded. And that much more so in 2010.

Booking Bands: Koestler

I Love You But I've Chosen Darkness at Noon

(Book, band, inspiration.)

Sweet!

A few years ago I suggested an alternative to an iPod's shuffle function - pull up a specific song from the "songs" menu and let it play on from there, which provides an alphabetical playlist which is every bit as random as shuffle play. This morning as I stepped off my train, I had a hankering to hear Elliott Smith's "Sweet Adeline", which I pulled up and then went the alphabetical route, which lead me to discover there are five songs on my iPod that begin with the word "sweet." Here they are:

Elliott Smith, "Sweet Adeline"
Iris Dement, "Sweet Is the Melody"
Seam, "Sweet Pea"
Mudhoney, "Sweet Young Thing Ain't Sweet No More"
Camper Van Beethoven, "Sweethearts"

Doomed singer-songwriter, twangy-voiced folkie, fondly remembered Chicago indie rockers, grunge godfathers, and goofy 1980s iconoclasts. Random, indeed!

Michael T. Fournier, The Minutemen: Double Nickels On the Dime

Michael Fournier's The Minutemen: Double Nickels On the Dime benefits greatly from the author's passion, enthusiasm, and in-depth knowledge of the Minutemen's great album. Fournier's structure is very straightforward, with a short introduction followed by a more lengthy (but brief - this is the Minutemen he's writing about, after all) song-by-song discussion. The song pieces provide both details of lyrics and instrumentation, as well as interesting background on the band's history and mindset. On the downside, however, I found Fournier's writing style to be too casual for my tastes, seeming less like text and more of a transcription of the lectures he gives as a college instructor on the history of punk rock. The too-frequent asides ("Awesome!") and sloppy grammar - somewhat acceptable in everyday speech, but awkward on the written page - distracted me time and again from the otherwise interesting narrative.

Reading the book was a unique experience. After receiving it as Christmas gift, I zipped through it cover to cover over the holidays, but even as I did so, I realized that the song-heavy focus of the narrative meant it really should be read while listening to the album. So I read it again on the train while plugged into my iPod. With the iPod on pause, I would read the installment of one song, then listen to that song as I read through the installment again. This really helped me see the songs in much greater depth, although the repeated play-pause-play did lessen the listening flow of the album to some extent.

Despite my reservations on the writing style, if you're a fan of Double Nickels I can definitely recommend this book, which will undoubtedly enhance your enjoyment and appreciation of the album.

Music: Best of the Oughts

I don't devour music anywhere near as maniacally as I used to. While I once bought four or five CDs a month (and had to physically restrain myself from buying more), now it's no more than two or three a year. And I typically don't delve into new (to me) artists, but usually fall back on the tried and true that I'm already familiar with. Since the best-of-year lists I used to crank out annually in the eighties and nineties would be laughably thin now, the end of the first decade of the 21st Century (or Oughts, for lack of a better term) gives me the excuse to compile a best-of-decade list here. Albums are limited to those released during the decade that I've heard in their entirety which, sad to say, is probably no more than twenty in number, although no such restriction is imposed on the songs list which thus gives the songs a bit more variety than the albums side.

Top Ten Albums

1. Morphine, The Night (2000)

Though Cure For Pain hit me more viscerally - somewhere in the sternum, at high volume - it's The Night that I keep coming back to, wondering what intriguing directions the band might have taken if Mark Sandman hadn't been taken away so suddenly.

 

2. Tom Waits, Orphans (2006)
Sprawling three-disc collection that shows Waits from every angle, from bluesy swamp rock to poignant balladry to wryly comic insanity. Portions of this were previously released earlier, but there's enough new material here to not qualify as anthology.

 

3. Ted Leo & the Pharmacists, Hearts of Oak (2003)

Loud and raucous yet thoughtful, Leo channels everyone from Joe Strummer to Paul Weller to Graham Parker to stellar effect.

 

4. Tommy Stinson, Village Gorilla Head (2004)

The most wonderfully pleasant musical surprise of the decade. The Replacements' incorrigable enfant terrible grows up without mellowing. This is miles better than anything his old bandmate Paul Westerberg has put out solo.

  

5. Mark Sandman, Sandbox (2004)

An unusual career retrospective of Sandman's various musical endeavors, primarily Morphine and Treat Her Right but also numerous side projects. Unusual, in that it's not a greatest hits but instead unreleased or limited-release material, much of which is every bit as great as what his bands put out as regular releases.

 

6. Joel R.L. Phelps & the Downer Trio, Inland Empires (2001)

Lovely collection of covers, from Fleetwood Mac, Steve Earle, Iris Dement, the Go-Betweens and Townes Van Zandt, plus Phelps' heartbreaking tribute to his late sister, "Now You Are Found."

 

7. Elliott Smith, From a Basement on the Hill (2004)

Another musical genius who left us too soon. This album, pieced together after his sudden death, is too scattershot to be considered amongst his best work, but even substandard Elliott Smith is superior to almost anything else out there. "Fond Farewell" is great (but not the ominous premonition you might expect it to be), as is the stunning closer "A Distorted Reality Is Now a Necessity To Be Free" which even hints at an emergent political consciousness.

8. The Shins, Chutes Too Narrow (2003)

Their first album was ragged, their third overly slick, but this - their second - nailed it perfectly.

9. Victor Krummenacher, Bittersweet (2001)
Best known as co-founder and bass player of Camper Van Beethoven, Krummenacher's deep and thoughtful solo work bears little resemblance to the giddy mania of his old band. In a good way.

10. Death Cab For Cutie, Narrow Stairs (2008)

I actually like the band's earlier stuff much better, but this is the only DCFC album I've heard in its entirety. Plus I'm giving it props for being the album that first established Maddie as our little indie rocker.

 

Honorable Mention:

Built to Spill, Ancient Melodies of the Future (2001)

Glenn Mercer, Wheels in Motion (2007)

The Hold Steady, Separation Sunday (2005)

Yo La Tengo, And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out (2000)

Billy Bragg, Mr. Love & Justice (2008)

Top Ten Songs (Not Appearing On The Top Ten Albums)

1. Ted Leo, "Loyal To My Sorrowful Country" (from Tell Balgeary, Balgury Is Dead, 2003)

Ted is pissed as hell, and he's not going to take it any more. And neither should we.

 

2. The Mountain Goats, "Palmcorder Yajna" (from We Shall All Be Healed, 2004)

Certainly the most rousing song ever written about recreational drug abuse in a seedy motel. And the headstones climbed up the hill.

3. Orchestra Morphine, "The Night" (from Live On Tour, 2000)

Yes, more Morphine material. After Sandman's death, his bandmates Dana Colley and Billy Conway were joined by many of Sandman's friends from the Boston music scene to form a big band that performed Morphine songs. This version of the already-great "The Night" is a revelation, turning the moodiness of the original into a rousing New Orleans jazz funeral, and is as fitting a tribute to Sandman as I can think of.

 

4. Okkervil River, "The War Criminal Rises and Speaks" (from Down the River of Golden Dreams, 2003)

A human monster begs listeners to remember that he is indeed human, and maybe not that different from everyone else. I wish more Okkervil River sounded like this, instead of reminding me way too much of Counting Crows.

5. American Music Club, "Patriot's Heart" (from Love Songs for Patriots, 2004)

Slow, grinding, filthy yet sensual. Mark Eitzel squeezes out every drop of empathy within him and pours it into this song.

  

6. Ben Folds, "The Luckiest" (from Rockin' the Suburbs, 2001)
The message of this charmer is something I remind myself every day. When Folds sticks to emotional, heartfelt songs like this and eschews the smartassery, he's a brilliant artist. Unfortunately, he quite enjoys smartassery.

7. Billy Bragg, "Take Down the Union Jack" (from England, Half English, 2002)

One of our most thoughtful public commentators rings down the curtain on England's role of prominence in world affairs.

8. Yo La Tengo, "Pass the Hatchet, I Think I'm Goodkind" (from I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass, 2006)
Droning, guitar-god rock at its finest. If you prefer the less eclectic, 1992-vintage Yo La Tengo, check this one out.
  

9. The Decemberists, "The Engine Driver" (from Picaresque, 2005)

Melodic and lyrically significant song, one which even inspired me to begin writing a novella (since abandoned) of the same name. Thanks anyway, Colin.

10. Chin Up Chin Up, "Virginia Don't Drown" (from We Should Have Never Lived Like We Were Skyscrapers, 2004)

Ah, what could have been. Sigh.
 

Honorable Mention:

Lou Reed, "Caroline Says" (from Berlin: Live at St. Ann's Warehouse, 2008)

Teenage Fanclub, "It's All in My Mind" (from Man-Made, 2005)

The Walkmen, "The Rat" (from Bows + Arrows, 2004)

The Clean, "E Motel" (from Getaway, 2001)

Tom Waits, "Alice" (from Alice, 2002)

Reissue

Big Dipper, Supercluster: The Big Dipper Anthology

I'm still puzzled how I could possibly have missed out so completely on Big Dipper the first time around. Not to mention the rest of the music-loving public. Fun, energetic music full of big hooks and memorable choruses. In a fairer world this band would have been as big as the Pixies.

Inspired Album Title

Radiohead, Hail to the Thief

For no other reason than the fact that the 2001-08 span regrettably made the decade one which it will take decades to recover from.

 

Listening: "Life and Times"

Bob Mould: Life and Times

My admiration for Bob Mould has been expressed many times here before, but this song (from a May 2009 Daytrotter session) deserves special mention. It reminds me a lot of the solo show I saw Mould perform in 1997 at the Vic in Chicago, which remains the most powerful (both musically and emotionally) performance I've ever seen. Mould draws more intensity out of just his voice and guitar than almost anybody else can do with a full band. He's one of those rare artists that I could listen to every day and never tire of.

Strummer (Hearted) Springsteen

Apparently Clash frontman and punk icon Joe Strummer had somewhat of an appreciation ("...HIS MUSIC IS GREAT ON A DARK & RAINY MORNING IN ENGLAND, JUST WHEN YOU NEED SOME SPIRIT & SOME PROOF THAT THE BIG WIDE WORLD EXISTS, THE D.J. PUTS ON 'RACING IN THE STREETS' & LIFE SEEMS WORTH LIVING AGAIN...") for Bruce Springsteen. But come on, Joe. Tell us what you really think.

Goodnight indeed

Outstanding: Goodnight Keith Moon. The Goodnight parody seems to be slowing developing a life of its own, with excellent results so far.

(Via Coudal.)

Albums start to finish

When I'm downloading from my record collection to my iPod, I rarely download albums in their entirety. Even though I've only tapped one-fifth of my iPod's storage capacity so far, I'm hesitant to download entire albums because, quite frankly, few of them are start-to-finish essential. Most of them have at most four or five tunes that I want to listen to regularly. The exceptions -those that are indeed start-to-finish essential and warrant a full download - are what I've come to realize are among my most cherished albums. And here they are:

Dumptruck, Positively
The Feelies, The Good Earth
Glenn Mercer, Wheels in Motion
The Hold Steady, Separation Sunday
Joel R.L. Phelps & the Downer Trio, 3
Joel R.L. Phelps & the Downer Trio, Warm Springs Night
Morphine, Cure For Pain
Morphine, The Night
Mark Sandman, Sandbox (disc one)
Sebadoh, Bakesale
Tom Waits, Orphans (disc two)
Yo La Tengo, Painful

Two anomolies in this list: Glenn Mercer and the Hold Steady, both of which I like but don't absolutely love. I have several other albums that will be downloaded in the entirety once I get around to it, including Pavement's Slanted and Enchanted, Lou Reed's New York, Silkworm's Libertine and R.E.M's Murmur. Also, this list doesn't include albums downloaded from iTunes, in which having the full album is inevitable - of the latter, there are two (the Minutemen's Double Nickels on the Dime and Tommy Stinson's Village Gorilla Head) that I would have downloaded in full from CD had I not gotten them from iTunes instead.

Critiquing New York

The "Review Revue" feature on KEXP's blog pulls an old record from the station's archives and transcribes the various comments on the record that the staffers have jotted down on the album cover over the years. The latest installment is of one of my favorite albums, Lou Reed's New York. Interesting commentary - plenty of love and plenty of hate, just as I'd expect to see in response to an often-polarizing artist like Reed. I have to agree with this one in particular: "Very few albums these days (1989) make you stop what you are doing & listen to the lyrics. This is one of them."

Our Noise: The Story of Merge Records

I just finished reading the terrific Our Noise: The Story of Merge Records, The Indie Label That Got Big and Stayed Small, by John Cook with Mac McCaughan and Laura Ballance. It's a history, primarily oral, of Merge, the great indie from Chapel Hill, North Carolina which has brought out so many great albums - not just by Superchunk (McCaughan and Ballance's band) but also Neutral Milk Hotel, Magnetic Fields, Spoon, Arcade Fire and many others - over the past twenty years. Mac and Laura started Merge from nothing, from being merely a vehicle for releasing 7-inch singles by Superchunk (whose first three albums weren't even on Merge) and their obscure Chapel Hill friends to becoming one of the most important record labels around, indie or otherwise. It's truly inspiring to read how Mac and Laura have made Merge into a success completely on their own terms, simply by doing what they love and following their hearts. None of Merge's artists were brought on because of their hitmaking potential, but because they made great music that Mac and Laura wanted to bring to the world, and because of the great music and the label's passion and commitment to doing things the right way, some of Merge's albums became bonafide hits (Arcade Fire and Spoon in particular). As the physical album gives way to the digital delivery of MP3s, the book ends on a somewhat nervous note, as even Mac and Laura seem uncertain that Merge can continue to thrive in the post-CD age, but if anyone in the record industry can pull it off, it's them. I'll certainly be cheering for Merge, the little label that could - and can.

(Special thanks to John Kenyon at Things I'd Rather Be Doing for sending me the book.)

"She's doing her caressin' with a tiny Smith & Wesson"

Barbara Feldon singing "99." No further explanation necessary. Just savor.

Mark Sandman

I have no idea who Eugene Mirman is (I can't read his name without thinking it's actually "Ethel Merman") but I appreciate his appreciation for the Mark Sandman anthology Sandbox. One challenge I've had with my Morphine-inspired novel (still progressing, though in fits and starts) is having the protagonist be unaware of any of the Sandbox material (particularly on the wonderful first disc, which has no band credits but appears to be mostly Morphine), most of which remained commercially unreleased until after the novel's timeframe.

What I Listened To On My Way To (And From) Work Today (and Yesterday)

Latest in an occasional series...

Morphine, "Wishing Well"
Typically moody and lush, the kind of tune that Mark Sandman could practically toss off in his sleep back then.

Big Dipper, "Nowhere To Put My Love"
Previously unreleased track which escaped the major-label dungeon that ended Big Dipper's career, and finally surfaced on the great Supercluster anthology on Merge Records. Terrific song, one of several should-have-been-a-hit songs that the band had.

Tom Waits, "Little Drop of Poison"
Dark and eccentric tune which I can imagine being performed by the piano player in the bar scene of Shrek 2 (the character which, indeed, performed Waits' contribution to that soundtrack).

Smog, "I Feel Like the Mother of the World"
"...with two children fighting." Bill Callahan's being metaphorically opaque here, and I like it.

Billy Bragg, "Which Side Are You On"
Another pro-union rouser from the incomparable Bragg.

Joel R.L. Phelps and the Downer Trio, "Chaplin's Radiotelephone"
Uncharacteristically brisk tune from the fine but nearly forgotten album 3.

Death Cab For Cutie, "A Movie Script Ending"
Earlier Death Cab effort, when the band was still flying under the public radar and their songs were more simple than now.

Red Red Meat, "Gauze"
Bunny Gets Paid has to be the most unlikely album to get the deluxe-reissue treatment that I'm aware of. Terrific song - long, slow, langorous, indie-white-boy blues.

Yo La Tengo, "Pablo and Andrea"
Probably my favorite Yo La Tengo song - midtempo and gentle, with Georgia's lulling vocals yet also Ira's shimmering guitar work.

Pylon, "Crazy"
As discussed previously.

Gordon Gano and the Ryans, "The Man in the Sand"
Gano's voice has matured, but in doing so seems to have lost the boisterous whine that made it so distinctive back in the Violent Femmes glory days. I'd also rather hear the old acoustic guitars instead of the electric band here.

The Feelies, "Higher Ground"
Intricate, tight, controlled. Only Life isn't my favorite Feelies album - as it mostly abandoned the exhilirating guitar interplay of The Good Earth for a more conventional lead guitar/rythym guitar pairing - but is still a very good one overall.

The Feelies

At the Chicago Reader, Peter Margasak reflects on the Feelies, and in particular the reissue of their first two albums, Crazy Rythyms and The Good Earth. The latter is one of my favorite albums in my collection, and the former has been out of print for ages but is now ripe for my acquisition. I concur in particular with his praise for "Raised Eyebrows", which I taped from a public library copy of Crazy Rythyms during my mostly-broke grad school days, and still love all these years later.

Listening: "Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth)"

Elliott Smith: Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth)

Lovely cover of George Harrison's great song by the equally great Elliott Smith, from a 2001 San Francisco show. Harrison's lyrics are particularly moving as sung by Smith, who despite his artistic success lived a deeply troubled life. I suspect that Smith spent most of his years looking for love and peace on Earth, yet never really found either.

(Via Largehearted Boy.)

"Absolute Beginners"

If you're feeling a bit sluggish today, this video should get you going. I'm not sure what the Jam is running from here, unless it's a sly nod to A Hard Day's Night and the screaming hordes that pursued the Beatles. Though a nod like that would have made more sense if the band was running through American streets with nobody pursuing them - they barely made a dent in the U.S. - as opposed to England, where this clearly was filmed and where the band was huge during their heyday. It will forever remain a mystery to me why they never made it big here. It certainly wasn't the fault of their music, which remains as wonderful as ever, 25+ years later.

Bands of Brothers

The latest rift between Oasis' forever-sparring Gallagher brothers (I'm giving them about three weeks before they're back together) got me thinking...

A short and by no means comprehensive list of rock bands with brothers in them
Oasis (Liam and Noel Gallagher)
The Kinks (Ray and Dave Davies)
The Replacements (Tommy and Bob Stinson)
The Connells (Mike and David Connell)
Crowded House (Tim and Neil Finn)
The Allman Brothers (Greg and Duane Allman)
Scruffy the Cat (MacPaul and Burns Stanfield)
Dire Straits (Mark and David Knopfler)
Versus (Ed and Richard Balyut)
Meat Puppets (Curt and Cris Kirkwood)

Feel free to add your own in the comments!

Mike Watt

John Kenyon runs a nice interview with one of my musical heroes, Mike Watt.

New groups are about new musical situations, new places to learn from. I think it helps me keep relevant somehow, keeps the bass from being just a machine and a means to help me keep learning. The different musical situations are like different "classrooms" and I sincerely believe everyone has something to teach me. I'm trying to cram as much as I can in the amount of life I have left...I think about my life... I think, "I'm here to learn!"

Thirty years in the business, and he's still eager to learn. I really admire that.

The looming death of the major labels

The majors have been on life support for the last several years. Now a viable alternative business model appears to have risen, which just might finish off the majors for good.

Under the Polyphonic model, bands that receive investments from the firm will operate like start-up companies, recording their own music and choosing outside contractors to handle their publicity, merchandise and touring.

Instead of receiving an advance and then possibly reaping royalties later if they have a hit, musicians will share in all the profits from their music and touring. In another departure from tradition in the music business, they will also maintain ownership of their own copyrights and master recordings — meaning they and their heirs can keep earning money from their music.

Artists retaining ownership of their copyrights and masters is a particularly welcome development. I've never quite understood why major labels think little enough of certain albums that they let them go out of print, and yet still hoard the albums to themselves, not letting the rights revert to the artists who have an interest in releasing it themselves. One example is the Mekons' brilliant Rock & Roll, which was released by A&M in the late 1980s but flopped commercially (did A&M really think an idiosyncratic band like the Mekons could become a mainstream success?) then let it languish, keeping it out of print for over ten years before an independent label finally picked it up and re-released it. For years I owned only a worn cassette dub of the album (not wanting to pay a fortune for a less-than-pristine used copy of the original release) and only recently acquired the re-release - which in itself was superior to the original, as it included two good tracks from the original UK release that had been deleted from the original U.S. release.

I've always felt that labels should be allowed to retain album rights only if they keep it in print and readily available - if they let an album go out of print, the rights should immediately revert to the artist. And in this digital age, there's really no excuse for albums being out of print - the labels could easily make them available online (through iTunes or whatever) at little to no additional cost. All of which may become a moot point if the Polyphonic model takes hold. Here's hoping.

Maddie is a punk rocker

Move aside, Sheena. If any aspiring and very generous punk bands would like to provide free instrumental backing to her vocals, YouTube glory may be imminent.

"Political Song for Michael Jackson to Sing"

I'm honoring Michael Jackson's life the best way I know how to...by listening to the Minutemen.

Get well, Chris Knox!

New Zealand indie rock legend Chris Knox has had a serious stroke, which has left him temporarily without speech and potentially permanently unable to walk. Here's hoping for his quick and full recovery. If you're unfamiliar with Knox's music and need an example of its wonderfulness, check out the "Half Man/Half Mole" video above, from his 1995 album Songs of You and Me.

(Via Mac.)

Bassist Wanted

 

I've been greatly enjoying Porter Mason's indie rock webcomic Bassist Wanted for several months now, but never so much as today. Retro swing bubble indeed...we had a swing band play at our wedding reception (ten years ago this week) not because we were hipsters caught up in the trend of the moment, but because we genuinely hated wedding reception DJs. As it turns out, the band was great and kept everyone - old and young - dancing right up until closing time. Usually wedding reception DJs will play quieter stuff early on, but once they start rocking out the older generation either tunes out and retreats to the outer tables, or leaves entirely. But everybody loved the swing band, and even the oldsters didn't want to go home.

Incidentally, I also once owned Setzer's first swing band album, and it was truly terrible. One of the very worst records I've ever owned.

(Legal mumbo jumbo: All original content on PorterMason.com is © 2009 Porter Mason. Bassist Wanted by Porter Mason is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.)

What I Listened To On My Way To Work Today

The iPod shuffled up this interesting half-dozen for my walk from the train to the office.

Mark Sandman, "Devil's Boots"
This song (from the posthumous Sandman box set Sandbox) is noteworthy for its lack of the bass guitar for which Sandman was so famous. Instead he plays simple piano chords, accompanied as always by Dana Colley on sax. The final Morphine album The Night had quite a bit of piano instead of bass, one of many tantalizingly hints of the new musical direction the band was beginning to explore when Sandman suddenly passed away. This July will make it ten years since Sandman died. I can't believe he's been gone that long.

Joel R.L. Phelps and the Downer Trio, "Ave Patricia"
The first post-Silkworm Phelps song I ever heard, from a CMJ magazine sampler disc circa 1993, one which intrigued me just enough to hunt down his solo debut, Warm Springs Night, which was hard to find even back in the nineties and has now been out of print for ages. Loved the album then, and still do today, both for its music and that it introduced me to the rest of Phelps' solo work which I've found endlessly rewarding.

The Jam, "Man in the Corner Shop"
I first dubbed this great song onto a cassette from public library CD checkout back in the early nineties (long before the home CD-ripping era) and for years longed to have it in digital format, though I could never quite take the plunge to buy the whole disc. And for some reason the Jam is criminally underrepresented on iTunes, with just a few compilation albums available and none of the band's regular releases (including Sound Affects, where this one first appeared), so even with iTunes I had to do without. But there I recently and blissfully stumbled across what I believe is an extended version of the old Snap! band compilation, which included this tune. And now it's mine, for which I'm extremely pleased.

The Replacements, "Sixteen Blue"
Set this gentle remembrance of teenage life next to the raucous "Tommy Gets His Tonsils Out" (both from the seminal Let It Be) and you'll see what made the Replacements so great: from wistful tenderness to balls-out rock and roll.

The Hold Steady, "Don't Let Me Explode"
My most recent band discovery, courtesy of the estimable Ben Tanzer.

Lou Reed, "Set the Twilight Reeling (Live)"
Interesting that the iPod cued up this one right after the Hold Steady, given that the latter's Craig Finn owes a lot of his vocal delivery to the sing-speak of Lou Reed.