Monday, January 14, 2013

Grunge Part III: Pearl Jam, Ten

I can't help it: when I'm happy I look insane
Fall, 1994. The scene opens on a painfully naïve preteen boy at a party where he is clearly out of place. Mike has been friends with Chris since kindergarten. In 5th and 6th grade they had weekly sleepovers; Mike’s house, then Chris', repeat. Chris has always been popular – his sense of humor has earned him the class clown moniker, but in a “cool” way rather than “klutzy.” His sense of fun is the link that sustains his friendship with Mike, and is the reason Mike is at a party surrounded by cool kids.

After a Saturday night sleepover, Mike and Chris had spent the previous Sunday morning in Chris’ basement planning the party. Chris knew exactly who to invite. At Mike’s forceful suggestion, the pretty new girl was invited, too. Mike even made the phone call to invite her to Chris’s party – immediately lending credibility to  his own “coolness.” Genius level middle school pickup move.

But now here they were. Chris, the social butterfly, was mingling with the small town’s most popular 7th graders. His parents were sequestered in the upstairs bedroom, while the party continued in the basement. Several of the kids had had a few drinks before arriving. One was offered to Mike – he passed. His  adolescent awkwardness was highlighted in the midst of this group of confident and self-assured peers. He was thrilled to have a friend like Chris who was helping to raise his social status, while  at the same time feeling absolutely uncomfortable in his own skin. Jammin ’92 blared on a stereo system and he nodded in time to hits like Montell Jordan’s “This is How We Do it” and the Rednex “Cotton Eye Joe.” Some of the other kids were dancing and nodding along as well.

Suddenly, the opening riff to Pearl Jam’s “Alive” tore through the room. Its soaring solo guitar pierced the air, and to Mike it was as if the rest of the world was turned down. He had spent countless house at the library with headphones on, listening to the library’s copy of Ten on cassette. Each solo on the album was indelibly written on his soul. Seemingly unable to control himself and without any awareness of his actions, he began to "air guitar" and sing along.

Artist: Pearl Jam
Album: Ten
Recording #9ish


Evidently, this outburst did not go unnoticed. One jock in particular, who had never spoken a word to him or even acknowledged his existence before now, threw an empty two liter bottle at him. “Here’s a guitar for you,” he sneered. In hindsight, it was a pretty lame attempt at a burn. But Mike snapped out of his trance and noticed the many entertained eyes on him, and in his 7th grade mind his life had been destroyed. If this was a movie he would have run from the room in embarrassed tears as the crowd pointed and jeered.

Instead, he turned beet red, shuffled into a corner and attempted invisibility for the rest of the night. So much for trying to talk to the new girl. He was sleeping at Chris’ house that night, so adding insult to injury, he really had nowhere else to go. The music of '90s teenage outcasts had become a self-fulfilling prophecy as it solidified his standing as a spazz.

Later that year, as they walked to Mike’s house after school, Chris announced to Mike that he no longer “believed” in the concept of “best friends.” Mike understood – Chris needed to escape the friendship without crushing him. It was the best friend equivalent of “it’s not you, it’s me.” Chris had tried to give Mike a hand up, and instead he risked being pulled down into nerddom.

The soundtrack of my teenage years, grunge, is intrinsically linked with my nerd status, which reached its peak in 7th and 8th grade. I have lots of fond memories of middle and high school – learning I was not (and would never be) part of the cool crowd was amazingly liberating. My core of lifelong friends was found in those years as we forged loyalty by embracing our outcast status and following our various nerdly passions. My lifelong love of music, especially of the obscure variety, was allowed to flourish because I didn’t have to worry about what anyone else thought.

My wife recently said to me that although I had relayed to her before what a dork I was when I was a kid, it didn’t hit home until she started paying attention to our son. His zest for life, completely unabashed earnestness and lack of self-awareness are endearingly adorable on a 2 year old. Imagining them in a 5 or 7 or 10 year old, though, she can see that our child will probably not be a “cool” kid. I’m okay with that. I can still remember the embarrassment of that night. Being a nerd is the price you pay for obsessive passion sometimes, but you have to follow what you love and what inspires you. I am who I am because I followed my passion and I hope I can pass that on to my kids.




Read Tom Moon's entry here.

Related Posts:

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Grunge Part II: Nirvana, Nevermind


I started my grunge series back in July, and Thanksgiving is here. What happened? Well, I transferred jobs in August, with seven weeks of training after that, and I am finally settled in. Unfortunately, the new location does not give me the opportunity to stream music at work, so things are still a little slow. Hopefully, I will be back to writing more soon.

Every couple of weeks or so some of the other dads in the neighborhood walked up the street with me to the local "Irish" pub for trivia night. Usually we made a respectable showing, taking 3rd or 4th place. Every once in a while we actually won. Each of us had our specialty: Mike listens to a lot of NPR while commuting, so he is the current events/"on this day in history" guy; Adam grew up and played sports in the area, so he is the local history and sports guy; I'm the random useless information guy with a specialty in music. My team gets angry at me if I miss a music question (which is really unfair considering the dude who runs the game is in his '60s with a focus on music from the '50s). 

All of this leads me to a conversation I had with a man, Andrew, who was sitting at the bar one night. He was waiting for a takeout order and joined our team while he was waiting. There was a music question of some sort and I complained that if they could just ask questions about Nirvana or some '90s alternative, I would be money. Although he claimed to like modern rock, he said he never really liked Nirvana. I stared at him, dumbfounded. He was probably about 25. Just a handful of years younger than I was, and when I was a kid, everyone liked Nirvana. But if you were 5 when Nevermind came out, you missed it.

In fact, at my age, the first Nirvana album I really fell in love with was In Utero. The lead singer of the band Against Me, Laura Jane Grace (formerly Tom Gabel) was quoted as saying "Nevermind is the best Nirvana album, hands down. Anyone who says it's In Utero is lying. They're just trying to look cool." I honestly put In Utero on to listen to much more than Nevermind. It's the first Nirvana album I listened to over and over. It was shocking to me to hear discordant songs like "Scentless Apprentice," "Milk It," and "Tourette's." The lyrics of "Rape Me" alone are worth the price of admission to a teenage kid just discovering grunge. 

A few years ago I put In Utero on in my shared office at work. After a few songs a guy at another desk looked over at me and asked "What the hell is this?" He was about 7 years older than me. Big into classic rock, big into arena rock, missed the grunge boat. And there you have it. The bookends on enjoying Nirvana.


Artist: Nirvana
Album: Nevermind
Recording #10ish



Nevermind was one of the first CDs I ever bought. Although I liked In Utero more, I actually thought I had to own Nevermind first because of all the radio hits. But I think that's another reason that I tend to pull up In Utero more often; a lot of those Nevermind songs have been driven into the ground. Still, the opening bass line riff of "Come As You Are," the classic reframing of the chords of Boston's "More Than a Feeling" to make one of the all time great riffs in "Smells Like Teen Spirit," the darkness of "Polly" still inform rock today. And if you get into some of those songs that didn't get much airplay, like "Lounge Act," there is still a lot to discover in this album. 

Maybe, though, this album is new to you. I wonder how it would sound to fresh ears, and if it will sound as dated as Mother Love Bone sounded to me. I can imagine "Teen Spirit" hitting the charts again today, because it still sounds fresh to my ears, but if you didn't catch it the first time around, maybe it's indistinguishable from all the rest of the '90s alt-rock. I'd love to hear what you think about this album and this band. Throw in your 2 cents in the comments section below or on Twitter or Facebook.



Read Tom Moon's entry here.

Related Posts:

Friday, September 21, 2012

The Hungarian King of the Road




My Grandpa Roger died two weeks ago.

I've only had two jobs in my life: the one I currently hold and working on Grandpa's "farm." In the summers I would weed, mow, plant, re-weed (I'm not a detail-oriented guy), and in my last two summers at home I helped him with beekeeping. Grandpa sat with my dad at nearly every football game I ever played in. If I looked up in the stands, he and my dad stood in the back row next to the other blue-collar guys who favored the high vantage point, and honestly couldn't be trusted to behave themselves closer to the field. Grandpa once showed up by himself to watch me play baseball in the snow. I struck out to end the game (my teammates thanked me as we were being crushed mercilessly and freezing) and he patted me on the back and probably grunted.

To say he was rough around the edges is an understatement. He was the first adult I ever heard use the "F-word" (notably, about how I directed his truck into the planter we had just built: "Well, that was a **** up"). He once told me I had a good career ahead of me as a fireman (who, in Cleveland, work 24 hours then have 48 off): "You work for 10 minutes and then take a 20 minute break." He was a boxer when he was younger, and until he had hip surgery in his late 60s I wouldn't have wanted to face off with him in a fight (after the surgery I figured I had a chance to knock him off balance). When he hammered a nail he hit it once.

But I feel the following list of words are also understatements when describing him: Tough; I used to sting his back with bees a couple times a week because the arthritis in his hips was so bad. At first it was once a week, eventually more, and up to 4 or 5 bees at a time.The guy didn't flinch, even the time I accidentally dropped one down his pants. Smart; he invented a bunch of stuff. Some of his ideas and products were stolen by a shady business partner, some he used just around his house. A solar powered wax-melter was the one I remember the most clearly. Creative; he made Chief Wahoo windmills, taught himself small engine repair, and made beeswax candles. Mischievous; if he opened his mouth to talk he was probably messing with you. The last time I saw him was in the hospital, pretty hopped up on pain meds. When the nurse came in to take his vitals, Grandpa confused the hell out of him for five minutes because his humor is so dry. I'm not sure my wife ever had a conversation with him where she was sure if he was kidding or serious.

In some ways it felt that I was the least close to him of all my grandparents. He was not a very talkative guy. I can't imagine the onomatopoeia required to relate much of his language- grunting really is the best description, but different sounds meant different things. In truth, he was my closest relative outside of my nuclear family. I spent countless hours at his house; as a kid I would spend at least one weekend a year sleeping over, watching a movie or the Indians, working the land (an exaggeration in many ways, but that's how it felt) and making a cool 20 bucks. In high school I think I got $120 a week in the summer for three 8-hour days. When the church bells rang at noon lunch was provided. We would sit in the majesty of his air-conditioned house, first sitting together at the breakfast bar and eating ham salad sandwiches and pickles, then moving to the living room, he in his recliner, me on the couch. We'd watch the local 12 o'clock newscast silently, and when the hour was up, he'd get up wordlessly and I would follow.

If it rained I would "Rain-X" his car, or vacuum the garage... I honestly can't remember much else about rainy days, except that he would sit in the other recliner, in the garage, and I would do busy work and listen to his radio. WTAM 1100 was playing all day in the garage, first Paul Harvey, rolling into Rush Limbaugh, finishing with Mike Trivisonno talking sports. He never played music during the day while we worked. The most musical moment I can recall is that when I rode with him in the Caddy in the evening he might have played some country.

At the wake, my aunt made a slide show. I must have watched parts of it 20 times as it played throughout the day and at least 5 times all the way through. The pictures from before my birth were fascinating to me, and there were plenty from my childhood that brought back amazing memories. Roger Miller's "King of the Road" was the first song featured as background music. About the 15th time I was catching part of the video someone asked my aunt if he liked that song. I was surprised to hear her say it was one of his favorites. I had no idea that he had favorites. The last two times I saw him I planned on asking what music he liked and then chickened out: it just seemed like such an awkward question. I cornered my aunt and started asking about Grandpa's musical tastes. "Oh yeah," she said, "he would put on his little Bose real loud and sit in his chair." I had seen the Bose, but I'm not sure I ever saw it turned on. What did he listen to? "Frank Sinatra, Roger Miller, Glenn Miller... he was into that big band stuff and the Rat Pack. A lot of times he would play classical in the evenings. Oh yeah, he was really into his music."

I think the blood probably ran from my face right there, because when my wife told me to call him and ask, that I would regret it if I didn't, I really, truly, honestly did not think there was a chance in hell that I would regret it. He didn't listen to music, so what I would regret would be an awkward last conversation where I blabbed at him about music. I regret it. Maybe it would have been awkward: so many of my interactions with him were (always messing with people) but maybe I missed a golden opportunity to talk with a man, a provider of a quarter of my genetic code, who was as connected to music as I am. My mom has since confirmed that "Yes, he listened to music a lot." In the grand scheme of regrets, I can think of worse; I saw him many times in his last year even though I live out of town, spent so many of my formative years watching his example. I can't get too hung up on one missed opportunity. But I'm skipping around in the book now, and I'm branching well outside the list to hear the music my Grandpa considered his favorites.

Out of all the artists listed below I could have named one song at most from each (I recognize many after further listening, though). I'm glad that I at least am able to hear these songs and honor him in that way. He was a hell of a guy and I feel blessed to have had so much time with him.


1000 Recordings Entries
Frank Sinatra - Songs for Swingin' Lovers
Frank Sinatra - Sings Only for the Lonely
Frank Sinatra and Antonio Carlos Jobim - S/T
Sammy Davis, Jr. - I Gotta Right to Swing
Nat King Cole and His Trio - The Complete After Midnight Sessions


Just Grandpa's List
Roger Miller
Dean Martin
Lou Rawls
Kenny Rogers
Vic Dana
Glenn Miller and His Orchestra
Tom Jones
Englebert Humperdinck

Friday, July 13, 2012

Grunge Part I: Mother Love Bone, Apple

Grungy Graph

Tom Moon's 1000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die has a lot of music I enjoyed long before I read about it in his book. Most of it is stuff I heard my dad listening to when I was a kid: classic rock like Zeppelin and Creedence; some is from the late '90s/early 2000s and would fall under "indie," representing the end of high school and college, when I was discovering lots of new music. 

The time when music meant the most to me, though, and I think a time when it means the most to many people, was during my preteen and teen years, in the mid-'90s. As an angsty, suburban teenager I shunned the East Coast/West Coast battle happening in rap, gagged when I saw bumper stickers for 99.5, Cleveland's country station, and latched solidly to "alternative." By the time I was buying my own CDs and changing the dial on the radio to hear what I wanted to hear (moving from the "Golden Oldies" station to "107.9 The End"), the first wave of grunge had long since washed over the country. Kurt Cobain committed suicide just as I was discovering his music: while some kids were wearing commemorative t-shirts to school and crying over the loss, I was just trying to figure out who the guy was. I was rocking out to Filter, Bush,  and Rage Against the Machine and while I also listened to Pearl Jam and Nirvana, I was completely oblivious to the fact that they were the pioneers of the music I loved (alternative, not grunge per se).

As I mentioned in my interview with Mark Yarm, author of the amazing oral history of grunge, Everybody Loves Our Town, I was still oblivious to the bands that came before Nirvana and Pearl Jam. Mother Love Bone was a band whose name was vaguely familiar, but who I had never heard anything by. When I read Yarm's book I hadn't yet gotten to the "M's" in Moon's book, so I flipped ahead and pulled up Apple. I was more than surprised by what I heard... and not really in a good way.

Artist: Mother Love Bone
Album: Apple
Recording #518



This was the band that was supposed to break Seattle into the consciousness of the rest of America? What does this have to do with grunge? Mother Love Bone, to my ears, shares more with Guns N Roses than Pearl Jam. Of course, to the ears of a guy I work with who is about five years older than me, "That's totally Jeff [Ament] and Stone [Gossard]," who eventually went on to form Pearl Jam. So I pulled it up again.

Yes, lead singer Andrew Wood has a hair metal/glam rock style that I wasn't expecting, but the riffs backing him up are the prototype of the type of arena rock Pearl Jam would perfect. And Wood is nothing if not entertaining (again, get Yarm's book to learn about Wood's interesting, and unfortunately tragic, life). The song "Holy Roller" is an example of how good Wood could be in his frontman role, and an example of how different from "typical" grunge they sound. "Stardog Champion" and "Bone China" could almost be PJ songs, though: they would need new lyrics, less reverb on the drums and, obviously, Eddie Vedder mumbling, but there is something familiar in there. 

By the second time through the album, I got past my own expectations and enjoyed the album for what it is. Although it sounds dated to me (as Nirvana does to Foo Fighter fans- I'm not making that up, look in the comments section of any FF or Nirvana video on YouTube) it's a better listen than most anything else from the time period. If you're a alt-rock or '80s rock fan who hasn't heard this, give it a shot. This album bridges a gap between those two periods.


Read Moon's entry here.

Related Posts:

Friday, July 6, 2012

Interview: Mark Yarm, Everybody Loves Our Town


I start movies I never finish watching. I pick up a book and read half of it before I give up. But I am a black hole for music: I am all consuming. I am insatiable. When I picked up 1000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die my intent was to discover MORE. And thank God I keep notes, because I've heard so much new, amazing music I can't keep track of it all.

The first thing I did when I bought the book was to figure out how many of the recordings I had already heard: I happily added checkmarks next to Nirvana's Nevermind, Pearl Jam's Ten, Soundgarden's Superunknown, Alice in Chains' Dirt. Tom Moon didn't have to tell me these were essential recordings because those bands made up the core of my music collection in my formative years. Grunge: check. Or so I thought.

When I picked up Mark Yarm's Everybody Loves Our Town: An Oral History of Grunge, which Time Magazine named one of its best books of 2011, I first noticed how long it was. I'm an incredibly slow reader, one step up from moving my lips while I read, and I thought it would take me forever to finish. But the book, filled with quotes from players in Seattle's grunge explosion; musicians, producers, friends, managers and more; was compelling in its portrait of a scene I thought I knew something about. The arrangement of the quotes, many contradicting each other in enlightening and humorous ways, pushes the reader forward as if reading a thriller. It was easily the best book I read in 2011, and the best non-fiction book I've had the pleasure of reading since Moon's.

I expected to read about the bands I mentioned above, and maybe the Melvins, who I had heard of in that Kurt Cobain considered them influential, but I was stunned by the number of other important bands I had never even heard of. I felt like I had been punched in the gut. Grunge is the foundation of my musical education, and Yarm showed me there was so much more to that world than I knew about.

Mr. Yarm recently took the time to chat with me about his book, grunge, and music in general. His interview kicks off a six part series I'm writing on the Seattle area grunge bands included in the 1000 Recordings (Mother Love Bone's Apple, Nirvana's Nevermind, Pearl Jam's Ten, Alice in Chains' Dirt, Soundgarden's Superunknown, and Screaming Trees' Dust).

What do you think about the six albums that are included? Do you think those are the six you would have included?

I don’t know if those are the six I would include. I mean, I agree with some. Obviously you can't, I think, be a contemporary music fan without having heard Nevermind, and I think by the same extension Pearl Jam's Ten. Those were kind of the twin pillars of the grunge explosion, so I think that those two are necessary.  

You know, Soundgarden, Superunknown was the album that made them into a pop band. Actually, reading the description [Moon] wrote for the 1000 Recordings, he didn’t even mention "Black Hole Sun," which was their mega hit, which made them transcend grunge. It's this Beatle-esque pop song, so they became sort of a pop group at that point in some ways. For my money, I think Badmotorfinger, which came out around the same time as Nevermind and was kind of eclipsed by Nevermind in many ways, is to me the height of Soundgarden. A song like "Jesus Christ Pose" which is just insane; I think their best song from beginning to end. I mean, I can see Superunknown being on the list.

I do agree with Alice in Chains' Dirt. That’s just a brutal, brutal album and really captures a lot about their mental state and the drug scene and kind of the metal element that Alice in Chains brought to grunge. That's just a great album. I was never a huge Alice in Chains fan. When I started writing this book I really did start getting into them.

Screaming Trees; Dust is a good album. I would probably pick Sweet Oblivion, which was [its] predecessor, which was more, I'd say, the grunge era.

Mother Love Bone: there were a bunch of other bands... there should be Mudhoney on this list if anything if it's a grunge list. Mudhoney or Green River. Mudhoney Superfuzz Bigmuff and early singles and that need to be on a list of essential grunge recordings or just essential indie or punk rock recordings. Of all the albums that could be classified as grunge, I think the one I've listened to the most over the last three to four years during the process of writing this book, and even after, is Superfuzz Bigmuff. And you know, that says a lot because after writing about grunge sometimes that is the last thing you want to listen to.

[Nirvana's] Bleach is another album that I think should be on the list. Obviously they're probably only going to include one Nirvana album. Bleach turned 23 today and that still holds up very well. Songs like "Negative Creep" or even "About a Girl," which was the signal that this is a band that had a Beatle-esque side to it as well. I think Bleach should be on there.

Bands like Mudhoney and Tad, and even Green River and Mother Love Bone, I had never really been introduced to before. Was part of your idea to open up that scene beyond just Ten and Nevermind and Dirt?

Yeah, I mean the idea was always there were the big four grunge bands; you've got Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden and Alice in Chains. And the scene was so much broader than that and so, also, incestuous. As you're reading the book you realize that [all these bands] grew up together, knew each other, played together, toured together, did drugs together, whatever. There were so many links between these bands and it's a real disservice to limit it to four or five of them.

If you look on the bookshelves there's been so many books written about Nirvana, so it was never my goal to write a Nirvana book, but obviously you can't tell this story without Nirvana. So in some ways I was kind of more psyched to get the U-Men: they're considered a proto-grunge, but the book opens up with a scene of them lighting the moat on fire at the Mural Ampitheater in Seattle. I talked to all eight members of the U-Men, which for most people will probably not really register. But I thought it was quite an accomplishment to have hunted everyone down and gotten their take on this band that not many people know too much about but were extremely influential on most everyone in that scene who saw them in the '80s.

So yeah, it was important to me to not only get the Nirvanas and the Pearl Jams but the U-Men, the Tads and the Malfunkshuns and any number of smaller bands.

I've heard it described that this was a scene that was one of a kind and probably won't happen again. If you could choose another genre or scene to write about, not necessarily considering whether it would sell or not what would you most enjoy writing about?

To the first part of your question, Seattle is so geographically isolated; that first success in the '80s, it was something that [the Seattle bands] could only dream of if they even gave it a thought. [Playing] was more for fun. Seattle was way out there in the corner of the country and so some touring bands would skip it, so people would have to make their own fun. Plus they had a lot of time to hone their sound and it was such a small scene they also all very much influenced each other and sort of cross pollinated .

Today a band puts out their mp3 on the internet, and maybe they've had a couple of practices, and they can have their music heard all over the world if theyre lucky, without any time to get really get their chops or to establish a real identity and sound and hone that. So I don't really foresee another Seattle happening. I mean, I could be proven wrong but it seems that the internet and the availability of music has sort of blurred those geographic lines to many degrees.

As far as another [genre], I think hair metal would be fun to write about, but there's been plenty done on that. The Dirt, the Mötley Crüe book, if people haven't read that, after they read my book they should definitely read The Dirt, because that's just like totally depraved, Sunset Strip stuff and it's really great. But I do find it fascinating. We just had [the] Rock of Ages movie come out so theres always this fascination with that scene and it certainly was debauched and full of interesting players.

Severely underrepresented on the list I believe. 

I bet. Also, that music never really gained any critical acceptance. I interviewed Bret Michaels for the book, from Poison, and he's an articulate guy, he knows whats going on, and his argument was "It's all rock and roll." He took Alice in Chains out on tour early on. He recognized something in them. He liked Nirvana.

That is kind of like a myth, that somehow grunge killed hair metal when in fact hair metal was already a genre on decline at that point. It was kind of doing itself in already, so there was just a vacuum [where] we were ready for new stuff. And obviously there were hair metal bands like Poison and Bon Jovi and Def Leppard that survived. I think a lot of the smaller bands really suffered with that tide shift.

What would you include on a list of 1000 recordings someone should hear before you die? 

Other than grunge? The first album that came to mind is My Bloody Valentine, Loveless. Certainly some R.E.M. albums. I'm a big fan of the Afghan Whigs; I just saw them on their reunion tour here. I'd probably pick Gentlemen, in that regard. Against Me, New Wave, is one of my favorite albums. There are a lot of them. This could take all day. Some Replacements albums. A couple of the grunge albums I mentioned earlier. Sigur Rós albums. Galaxie 500 albums. A lot of stuff. A lot of stuff.

As we were chatting at the end of the interview Mark said something that really sums up how I feel about his book and why I think it shares a kindred spirit with Moon's: 

I get a lot of messages from people [after they read the book] that say "I haven't listened to Pearl Jam in 20 years, but here I am listening to them." Or "This introduced me to bands I've never heard," just like you’re saying, that are definitely worthwhile hearing. I was always hoping the book would have that effect on people; that people would say "This is a band I didn't know anything about or maybe thought I didn't like or wouldn't like, but you know they have an interesting backstory and let me give them a chance." Especially now when you can just click on Spotify and listen to them or find their music pretty easily online or take out your old CDs and listen to them. There's so many side projects and one offs and singles, so you can certainly keep busy after reading this book.

There's certainly a lot to listen to and I'm glad that people are going beyond Nevermind or Ten or some of the standard bearers and looking for Melvins albums or Mudhoney albums or Tad albums or 7 Year Bitch albums or any of the various lesser known groups that are in the book.

Hear more from Mark Yarm at his Twitter feed, Tumblr, and Facebook page where he keeps up a steady stream of news and information about all things grunge. And I highly recommend picking up his book.


Related posts:


  • Interview: Sal Valentino of the Beau Brummels

  • Flaming Lips and Erykah Badu Sing a Song with Siri

  • Chardon, Portishead, and the Loss of Innocence
  • Wednesday, June 13, 2012

    COVER: Iggy Pop and Ginger Baker Rock the Black Keys



    1000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die artists Iggy Pop and Ginger Baker, the drummer for Blind Faith and Cream, recently turned the tables by covering a much younger band, The Black Keys. The track, "Lonely Boy," is off the Keys' 2011 El Camino and is for a tribute album to the band called Black on Blues, due out in July. The song isn't revelatory, but it does rock, and it features Pop's famous whining. The album also contains a track featuring Dave Davies of 1KRBYD artist The Kinks, as well as some other famous and not-so-famous (outside of the blues) acts. Watch the video below, grab the track at Cover Me, then preorder the album.



    Stream Iggy Pop's 1000 Recordings entry here.
    Stream Cream's entry here and Blind Faith here.

    Related entries:



    Wednesday, June 6, 2012

    Kind of Blue: Revolutionary or Comfortable?

    Courtesy of Pichars.org
    My seventh wedding anniversary was on Monday. We cooked quinoa and corn, had a glass of Moscato, and watched The Office. My wife was in bed by 9:30. Lame, you say? Nah, it was just fine. Easy, comfortable, and familiar. I'll get back to that, later. Let's talk about jazz.

    Jazz seems so hard to understand. Okay, lots of it is pleasant to listen to (although lots of it isn't), but what's the difference between great jazz and mediocre jazz? To someone just getting started in the world of jazz, there doesn't seem to be much. After hearing dozens of jazz recordings since starting this project, from free to bebop to New Orleans, my ears have started to pick up on the workings of a jazz song (with some thanks to the 1000 Recordings Podcast guys who walk listeners through some of the jazz recordings). Also, based on the recommendation of the 1000 Recordings Podcast I've started watching Ken Burns' Jazz on Netflix. I'm only on the first episode, but I can already tell that the story of jazz is interesting and important, even if I don't understand it, yet.

    All of this brings me to what is widely considered the most influential piece of jazz (and, some would say, music) of the 20th Century, the highest selling jazz recording of all time, Kind of Blue by Miles Davis.



    Artist: Miles Davis
    Album: Kind of Blue
    Recording #220ish
    Stream here or here

    Revolutionary, the critics say. Influential to the nth degree. Featuring Coltrane, Bill Evans, "Cannonball" Adderly (all featured elsewhere on the 1000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die), this album will melt your brain, evidently.

    Dinner music is what I call it.

    I first arrived at this thought a few months back when my best friend, John, visited from New York. He moved there to go to culinary school, and instead got involved with a startup sandwich shop where he frequently invents sandwiches for their menu and runs one of the stores. When I lived in Texas he came to visit and destroyed my kitchen cooking us a watery coconut tofu dish, burning a piece of tofu to the bottom of my oven so bad that I'm not sure we ever got it off. He offered to cook us dinner on his most recent visit: I was, understandably, wary.

    After a delicious meal of bone marrow, lemon-butter seafood pasta, and brandied pears I finally had to let go of my nearly-decade long grudge for John's previous cooking discrepancies. Letting him cook for us was more fun and easier than trying to take an eighteen-month old out to a nice dinner. Which brings me, again, back to the idea of comfortableness.

    While we cooked and ate, I thought we needed a little mood music. John was a hipster music snob before the word hipster existed, my wife gladly listens to Top 40 radio, and I'm somewhere in between. Kind of Blue was something we could all agree on, which for an album with as many accolades as it has, is impressive. If you want to sit down with a pair of high quality headphones and pick this album apart, you can do that. It's incredible. I say have at it. Write a dissertation on it. But as background dinner music, it can't be beat. Modality is a word I've never written before, but if I understand it correctly, it's what makes this album so damn listenable. The subtle shifts in the songs were mindblowing at some point, but now they've become the premise behind easy listening.

    This weekend I am taking my wife out for our nice anniversary dinner, to a french restaurant, white tablecloths, multiple courses and all that. I think there's a 50/50 chance my son will wake up and we'll have to abandon our high-class plans and return home early to a screaming child and a frazzled babysitter. I'm still looking forward to it, but sometimes easy and comfortable can be so much more than they seem.

    Related posts: