Pink Floyd, "The Wall"

Pink Floyd
"The Wall"
Harvest (1979)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

I sympathize with the writer from Melody Maker magazine who was tasked with reviewing Pink Floyd's "The Wall" when it debuted during 1979. "I'm not sure whether it's brilliant or terrible, but I find it utterly compelling," he wrote. I wouldn't go as far as to say it's ever terrible, but it certainly has flashes of brilliance, or at least the potential for brilliance. By now, popular culture has deemed "The Wall" to be a triumph, and that's tough to fight. Rolling Stone ranks it the no. 87 album of all time, and Rolling Stone reads like the Bible to some. Worth the praise? Definitely worth the argument at least.

Much of the conflict revolves around the traditional prog-rock argument: Is it too much? Pink Floyd has dodged the ire of traditionalist critics better than say, Rush, because its instrumental approach has never been overbearing. They continue said approach during "The Wall." Sure, sides C and D are filled with orchestral supplements, and anyone who knows the "Another Brick In The Wall" sequence remembers the use of sound effects. Despite the multitude of instrumental ideas in play, the music is never too dense, nor the time signatures too odd during "The Wall" for a casual listener. The album references itself throughout, such as with the famous bass line from "Brick," helping to unify the concept behind the record.

"The Wall" is overambitious in its conceptual scope however. Roger Waters will tell you the backstory of him spitting on a fan, but that only covers a snippet of what's revealed during the album. Side A serves as a biography for the bassist/vocalist, containing famous singles like "Another Brick in The Wall" (parts one and two), and "Mother," which describes the overbearing care of his own following his father's death during World War II. Side B details the marital troubles of Pink, the rock star representing Waters (although he was happily married at the time), and Side C describes Pink's retreat behind "The Wall," best narrated by the marvelous single "Comfortably Numb." As a collective, these three chapters work well to personify Waters' concept of building a wall to block out humanity, and the negative effects of doing so.

Side D is the mystery however. Pink imagines himself a fascist, raging against the "queers,""coons" and "Jews." He wakes from the nightmare wanting to avoid such a situation of course, but the dream lasts a good five tracks. What can a listener glean from it? Building a wall builds hate for humanity, sure, but does it lead to genocide?

Waters touches on a number of personal beliefs during "The Wall:" objections to methods within the educational system, sending troops overseas, money-isn't-everything themes. He wanted to say a lot, but he could have said it all in a lot less time. There are five great singles on the album that get frequent radio play still, and the B-sides ain't bad either. But "The Wall" could do without many of the minute and two-minute tracks that literally serve only to fill gaps.

Of course, I'm sure the fans who sell out Waters' ongoing "The Wall" tour disagree.

Pink may have torn down his wall by the end of the album, but "The Wall" never came down between the rest of Pink Floyd. The good news is that David Gilmour threw all the good solo ideas he had left into "Comfortably Numb." The bad news is that there hasn't been a band equalling Floyd's epic scope since.

INTERESTING FACT: Bob Geldof is famous for founding Band Aid and World Aid, as well as writing "Do They Know It's Christmas?" for other, more famous artists to sing. He also starred as Pink in the film version of the album, released in 1982.

(not the original, alas. But a pretty good live version that Waters feels is OK to share on the internet apparently)

The Soft Boys, "Underwater Moonlight"

The Soft Boys
"Underwater Moonlight"
Armageddon (1980)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

There's something about alternative music that makes it so rock 'n' roll is no longer just that. It's got to be college rock or neo-psychedelia, or something along those lines. Or, in the case of "Underwater Moonlight" by The Soft Boys, some combination of those things. But definitely not just rock 'n' roll, heaven forbid.

Let's look at what might make this album psychedelic in the eyes of 1001 Albums writer Rob Morton. Where he hears "swirling guitars" during "I Wanna Destroy You," I hear just the opposite: a fairly straightforward chorus backed by fairly straightforward guitar. At the very end of the song where the instruments start losing focus, but the album never reaches the truly trippy guitar washes of say, Pink Floyd. The sitar, a popular instrument for the psychedelic movement, makes an appearance during "Positive Vibrations," but it's used for melodic purposes, not to create drone.

One aspect that might fool a listener into referring to Soft Boys as "psychedelic" (one of the most used and misused words in music criticism. It's like when people say "ironic" constantly. Ninety percent of the time it's not ironic) is the absurdity of the lyrics. "I Wanna Destroy You" is one of the few songs with an obvious message. Absurdity isn't a complaint. Here's my favorite, from "I'm Insanely Jealous of You": "It comes on pretty quick, just like a crocodile in search of a mirage, across the undulating sand."

When I listen to the album all the way through, I feel that much of this record is power pop. Even if you can't understand the verses (in lyrics or meaning), some of these hooks are just too catchy to be considered far from rock 'n' roll. "Positive Vibrations" is nearly Merseybeat. "I Wanna Destroy You" packs an aggressive message, but the hook is a chorus of vocals singing the title in a style reminiscent of '70s acts such as Foreigner and ELO. The rising hooks of "Tonight" (again with falsetto help) and "Underwater Moonlight" would help this album fit with less discerning classic rock listeners.

Of course, the main thing that separates rock like this from the stuff you hear on the radio is intention. Band leader Robyn Hitchcock didn't want to appeal to the popular audience, so he didn't. It's a similar story with REM as we'll see later with "Murmur." No reason that stuff couldn't be mainstream popular, but the band chose to market itself through the smaller, more independent radio stations. The difference is that huge audiences eventually found REM, and "Underwater Moonlight" would be The Soft Boys' second and last record.

INTERESTING FACT: Plenty of interesting places where bands have cut records. The Soft Boys had their rehearsals in a boathouse on the River Cam in Cambridge. Surprising there was no Gordon Lightfoot-style nautical narratives.

Talking Heads, "Talking Heads: 77"

Talking Heads
"Talking Heads: 77"
Sire (1977)
1001 Album You Must Hear Before You Die

David Byrne has earned his place in music history, and it's not because of his work with the Talking Heads. He's one of the biggest promoters of world music (as we've seen with Waldemar Bastos, and we'll see again) and he's advanced sampling through his experimentation and work with Brian Eno ("My Life In The Bush of Ghosts"). Still, the Talking Heads kind of set the standard for new wave, so albums like "Talking Heads: 77" deserve a listen.

During its first go, the Talking Heads didn't need synthesizer to make them new age. There's an organ on occasion ("Happy Day") but the genre was really about taking same old instruments and veering off the path being set by rock 'n' roll. At the time (1977), rock was heading in, by my estimate, three directions. The "classic" sound was becoming more bombastic by way of Led Zeppelin and T. Rex, and punk was proudly not that. New wave opted to avoid glamor in the same way punk did, but it also avoided the dense cacophony punk created. The name of the game was efficiency.

Consider Talking Heads' best known song to this day, "Psycho Killer." The opening bass line is about as simple as it gets, but fills its purpose splendidly. There's a bit of tremolo picking in the opening riff, but it drops back when the lyrics begin. During the entirety of the famous hook (35 seconds during the first instance), a mere dozen chords are strummed as Byrne meanders between English and French. Chris Frantz drums with an even more bare-bones fashion. There's a reason new wave is alternately known as "art punk": The genre captures punk's simplicity without yielding to reckless abandon.

Of course Byrne's subject matter is also entirely unlike that of punk. Aside from one Devo-esque satire ("Don't Worry About The Government"), Byrne takes the '60s pop approach to songwriting, focusing on the romantic tribulations of his high school self. The frontman writes differently than typical pop however. Although the Beach Boys and young Donny Osmond may have delivered tales of puppy love (see what I did there?) in poetic form, Byrne's protagonist recites his lines less than melodically, often not rhyming, as if he doesn't know what to say (the first four tracks on "77" sum this up pretty well). In my experiences, talking to girls during high school was tough (but I wasn't Chief Keef or anything). Kudos to Byrne for earning my sympathies, and reflecting much of the world's reality.

Anyway, Talking Heads are great and all, but it's only one of the facets in which we'll see Byrne during the duration of this blog. Through his work as a musician, collaborator, producer and label owner, Byrne may be the most well represented individual in the 1,700 albums or so we look at.

INTERESTING FACT: As I mentioned a few posts ago with Randy Newman, it's tough when people take your work literally. Byrne may have thought this when Ice-T revealed that the song served as an inspiration for Body Count's notorious hit "Cop Killer."

Tom Waits, "Rain Dogs"

Tom Waits
"Rain Dogs"
Island (1985)
1000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die + 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

Some performers are cursed by a compliment. It's an unusual condition where a musician is given the same praise so often that it prevents other features from being praised. Critics focus so strongly on the one facet that they fail to give attention to other worthwhile tendencies. Tom Waits struggles with this, in my opinion. I've seen the term "whiskey-soaked vocals" or some other play off of the liquor variety used just a little too often.

I'll address this overused endorsement first just to clarify my own complaints. I understand what people are saying when they compare Waits's voice to the drink. Whiskey is a beverage that's rougher than, say, gin. But many, including myself, still enjoy whiskey as their first choice of hard alcohol. The point is that Waits's vocals are rough, but artfully crafted and pleasurable nonetheless. I agree with this sentiment, but let's move past this already.

The best part about the 19 tracks on "Rain Dogs" is that Waits shifts his tone dramatically throughout. His signature, asperous delivery remains, but the vocalist adjusts it to fit the mood. I broke his voice into three general categories based on this album: 1) Quiet. The rarest of the three, but proves that Waits can be subtle on tracks such as "Jockey Full of Bourbon." 2) Comical. Most common, and suits the needs of the dark-humored narratives that make up the majority of Waits work here. See the title track. 3) Full-on drunken wobble. You can hear Waits bringing his voice from the back of his throat, imaginary jowls wobbling. Waits certainly sings about whiskey and other alcohol plenty, and often his characters sound full of it, by design of his delivery. A good example of this is the Keith Richards-assisted "Big Black Mariah."

Waits's best aspect as a vocalist is his ability to imitate tones. He never changes the "whiskey" voice (that's what fans love after all). He can get weird, he can get poppy (see "Hang Down Your Head"), he can be country ("Gun Street Girl") with minor tweaks. Waits does whiskey vocals, sure. But he also does bourbon and scotch pretty well.

Even if you don't spend hours fretting and studying vocal styles (as you shouldn't), Waits's songs will still entertain. His characters are somewhat real, somewhat fictional, but they're all "rain dogs," a term Waits uses to describe people lost in the world, the downtrodden. There are tales of sailors off of Singapore, criminals in Minnesota and gangsters in Cuba. The narratives are different, but nearly every track happens on the tough side of town.

So give Waits a new compliment. He knows that his voice is unique and certainly a gift to fans of eccentric music the world across. Let's praise him not for his talent, but instead for skillfully using that talent to make any mood and tone operate effectively.

INTERESTING FACT: The layout of the typography on the front of "Rain Dogs" is exactly the same, by design, as Elvis Presley's debut album and The Clash's "London Calling." However, Waits opted to make the text blue, instead of red as featured on the other two albums.

Coldplay, "Parachutes"

Coldplay
"Parachutes"
Capitol (2000)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

Coldplay has taken a bad rap over the years, far worse than what they deserve. They're quiet, they're subtle, there's that line in "Knocked Up" where the one pal is "gay" because he listens to Coldplay. But think about it. Those are the exact reasons why Coldplay is the opposite of Nickelback, the go-to band for hatred en masse. You could argue that both bands exist in separate, equally sucky poles. I would argue the opposite (except for Nickelback of course), especially on Coldplay's debut album "Parachutes."

The first thing in getting past what you don't like about Coldplay is figuring out what you don't like about Coldplay. I'm going to use myself as the example here. I don't enjoy the band (note: there's a difference between "dislike" and "don't enjoy") because the vocalist isn't aggressive with any of his emotions and the instrumentals aren't dense. Odds are, this is also why every Nickelback fan hates Coldplay.

Let's start with the vocals. I just kind of made the argument that Chris Martin doesn't show emotional range in his singing. But I lied. He does, but recognizing it is all about understanding relativity. Just check out the two big singles from this album, "Shiver" and "Yellow." Martin is subtle throughout and he's still subtle during the hook, but notice how when switches to his falsetto. When you examine nearly any Coldplay song, Martin's pitch rises as the action rises. And it ain't schlocky wails like '80s hair metal; Martin has got a beautiful crooning voice and he's at his best in the higher range.

Another reason why rock fans don't like Coldplay: The band is never angry! Think about mainstream rock music. Anger (or at least spite) is the emotion of choice, whether it be Three Days Grace, Green Day or Cannibal Corpse. Coldplay is sad half the time, and during the other half they have the nerve to be optimistic, such as during songs like "Everything's Not Lost" and "Yellow." Optimism is generally frowned upon (Ha-ha! I didn't even mean to do that) in rock circles. If you don't like Coldplay because of its positive attitude, find a better reason.

As I mentioned, the music isn't too dense either. If you listen to "Parachutes" and find it boring, think: Did you find the Tony Bennett album we listened to boring as well? You probably didn't like the latter because you don't like the piano/vocal-and-that's-it setup. Coldplay only occasionally uses a real keyboard, Jonny Buckland and Guy Berryman string duo operates just like a single piano. The piano, after all, is just an efficient combination of the guitar and bass. Check out the second verse in "Sparks:" Buckland is the slow twinkling of the left hand and Berryman is the resonant chords of the right, and Martin is the much quieter Tony Bennett. If there's excitement to be had, it's when drummer Will Champion picks up the pace leading up to the hooks.

If it doesn't work for you, don't worry about it. Coldplay is a band that fits your tastes or it doesn't. Just don't think it's because they're a bad band.

INTERESTING FACT: Coldplay performed "Yellow" at a tribute for Steve Jobs in 2011, and commented that they had played the same song for him more than ten years earlier. Martin said the software pioneer referred to the song as "total shit" and that Coldplay would never make it as a band.

Beck, "Odelay"

Beck
"Odelay"
DGC (1996)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

There is nothing quite as damning as mainstream success to someone who hopes to buck popularity. All musicians appreciate the money that comes with album sales, but that doesn't mean they want to be on MTV. Kurt Cobain is the classic example. "Smells Like Teen Spirit" mocked corporate music and became the biggest song of the decade. Cobain didn't kill himself based strictly on unwanted success, but it certainly helped. Beck is a slightly less melodramatic example. His single "Loser," off the 1994 album "Mellow Gold," was one of those last-minute tracks that Beck threw in. It got huge and Beck immediately grew concerned that the public would consider him a one-note wonder. Therefore the follow-up "Odelay" had to be the biggest jumble of variety EVER CREATED (or something).

Considering this was 1995, it's tough to beat the Dust Brothers for helping with production (DJ Shadow and Girl Talk weren't things yet). If you recall, this is the same duo that helped the Beastie Boys to craft "Paul's Boutique" and advance the art of sampling. The pair would help Beck make his new album a big, glorious mess of styles. Some of the samples are simple, like when Beck balances hip-hop vibes with California beach themes that play into his perceived slacker motif. Few of the drum beats sound sampled, but most of them are. Beck and the Brothers are less clean in many of their other decisions, but by intent.

Consider this album's super-hit "Where It's At." The organ melody and handclap rhythms blend hip-hop and soul, which is natural. Following the first hook (you know the one), it suddenly breaks down into robo-Beck singing over an electric drum set. It makes no sense, but Beck's intentions do. He has a dozen potential singles on "Odelay," but he doesn't want people to get too comfortable with his music. "Sissyneck" pulls the act off more smoothly. The bass and drums remain funky, and electric chirps pop up, but the guitar takes a turn West thanks to playing with a slide. Beck drawls his vocals while discussing urban life, a stroke of irony fans have come to expect.

Speaking of irony, I do have one beef with Beck and his vocal approach. I'm not offended that he comes across as totally apathetic. I'm cool with that. But as mentioned before, much of Beck's music takes after hip-hop, and his vocal delivery often follows suit. Beck knows he's a terrible rapper (producer Carl Stephenson told him so), so he's got to rely on his lyrics. Generally, his lyrics only succeed in that they rhyme. Critics have long gotten around his awkward phrasing by citing its irony. I don't doubt that this is true about Beck's approach. But when every other clunky white rapper tries to flow, (Vanilla Ice, Fred Durst, etc.) it's called crap. Intent is important, but it's not enough for me. Of course, the examples I gave aren't exactly sympathetic. I just didn't want to slobber about Beck's genius like many critics do.

"Odelay" is best if the lyrics are written off anyhow. All those hip-hop/surf rock/electronica elements…this album was meant to be fun. And it is.

INTERESTING FACT: There are a lot of samples on "Odelay," but a few stick out. The Dust Brothers found two samples of the band Them, which was Van Morrison's first group. Both of the samples are from Them covering other artists. One, in "Devil's Haircut" is a sample of James Brown's "Out of Sight." The other is on "Jackass," where Them play Bob Dylan's "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue."

Blondie, "Parallel Lines"

Blondie
"Parallel Lines"
Chrysalis (1978)
1000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die + 1001 Recordings You Must Hear Before You Die

Few '70s albums had as many singles as Blondie's "Parallel Lines." Two of the six radio tracks have remained cultural staples however: "One Way or Another" and "Heart of Glass." "Parallel Lines" can be melted down into the same two tracks. Comparing these singles reveals two halves to the band, and which one is the better half.

I'll be upfront and acknowledge that "Heart of Glass" is the lesser single. That being said, it's probably the best disco track of all time. The band plays synth and syncopated bass in the way the genre requires, and Deborah Harry's voice is sugar sweet, hitting its highest register during the song. That being said, none of these things live up to the band Blondie aimed to be or is renowned for being. Harry and guitarist Chris Stein didn't write "Heart of Glass" to be disco, but suggestions were made and the genre was hot in 1978, and this rendering of the song happened. It's undeniably catchy, and the "pain in the ass" line shows more spunk than pop bubblegum, but "One Way or Another" is the true gem on the record.

Blondie rose within the New York CBGB scene, resurrecting Phil Spector girl group appeal and combining it with the light punk sensibility popular at the time. Unlike the Ronettes, there was only one girl fronting Blondie, but Harry was more than enough to fill the role. She proved on "Heart of Glass" that she had smooth vocals, but her rougher edges are of greater appeal. During "One Way or Another," she melodizes about her schoolgirl crush, but during the flashes of obsessive aggression she produces a growling effect reminiscent Tina Turner.

"One Way" also demonstrates the cynical approach Blondie took to the '60s sound. The song, which Harry wrote along with bassist Nigel Harrison, details a crush, but not a healthy one. The protagonist is clearly a fanatic, which adds a layer of humor to the track. Harry displays her character's unstable condition by delivering the song's catchphrase in a number of playful ways.

Harry's clearly the star (if the album art didn't clue you in), but the band helps set the tone for the group. The presence of the heavy guitars and keyboard harmonies during "One Way" define the song as power pop, and not just regular ol' pop. Stein gets to let loose at times, including a brief but animated solo during Crickets' cover "I'm Gonna Love You Too."

It's a tad unfair to ignore the other four singles that "Parallel Lines" spawned, but the two big ones go a long way in defining the band. "Heart of Glass" ain't bad, but "One Way or Another" truly defines Blondie in the long run.

INTERESTING FACT: Harry is more than just a face, but she does have a pretty good face. One of her roles before joining Blondie was Playboy bunny...but I suppose that doesn't necessarily say anything about her face.

The Triffids, "Calenture"

The Triffids
"Calenture"
White/Hot (1987)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

It's rare for me to describe anything that "sounds like the '80s" as being good (I was also created during the '80s, and Lord knows I suck). The Triffids' "Calenture" sounds like the '80s. But somehow, I didn't get sick listening to it. The band was obviously tapping into the styles that were the rage in pop, but the group managed to shuffle things up enough among tracks so that the sound never gets tiresome.

As a singer, David McComb has the consummate '80s voice (a statement that will get me in trouble with the limited number of Triffids fans perusing the internet). Just to cause more trouble, I'll call him a more subtle version of Jim Kerr of Simple Minds (you know, "Don't You (Forget About Me)"). McComb's tone works, especially for more poetic tracks like single "Bury Me Deep In Love." Songs like this allow McComb to use his vocal style for what it's best at: walking the fine line between joy and depression.

Tracks like "Hometown Farewell Kiss" exemplify the typical content of a Triffids song. Here, McComb sings about his birthplace going up in smoke. But if you based emotions on what you heard versus what he said, you'd guess the song sounded pretty darn happy. Two different songs refer to eyes being stitched shut: "Blinder by The Hour" and "Jerdacuttup Man." It's never quite clear whether the tales McComb weaves are supposed to make you smile or weep. The protagonist of "Bury Me" dies, but ends up buried deep in love. There's an aura of heartbreak and joy around almost everything on "Calenture."

The instrumentation is where the "alternative" aspect of the band's style comes in. As I mentioned before, there tends to be an '80s vibe. Is there a synthesizer? You bet, opening "Trick of The Light." Is there a Seinfeld-esque jazz bass? You bet, popping up on "Kelly's Blues." But on the other hand, bolder, more differential instrumentation comes in later. "Blinder" is driven by a piano, and orchestral strings fill in for a regular rhythm section. "Jerdacuttup" is notable for a blend of old-school harmonica and new-school electric chirps, ending with a bluesy solo on the former.

If you hate the soundtracks to John Hughes movies, you probably won't find much to enjoy on "Calenture." But there's a reason why The Triffids are in this book and one-time superstars like Simple Minds aren't. McComb's lyrics are fun to follow, and the band juggles its instruments to keep the sound fresh.

INTERESTING FACT: If you've learned anything from this blog, it's probably what the meanings behind band names are. A "triffid" is a giant, man-eating plant thing from the 1951 John Wyndham sci-fi novel "The Day of the Triffids." Or there's this trailer for the 1962 film version (I recommend just fast-forwarding to the last 20 seconds): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s6jZPeSRf_U

Björk, "Homogenic"

Björk
"Homogenic"
One Little Indian (1997)
1000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die

Björk is commonly described by the adjective "weird." Björk has a weird voice, weird instrumentals, weird album art, weird music videos, weird dresses at award shows. Every one of those things appears on "Homogenic," her third album (except the dress). If listeners went into a Björk album expecting more than just oddity, perhaps we'd learn something. There's a great album here, with only a thin layer of bizarre to peel away.

The biggest struggle for most is her voice. Vocal style is the number one thing people struggle to get over when trying to get into new music. As a Rush fan, I know many who can look past odd time signatures and ten-plus minute songs, but Geddy Lee's high pitch voice kills the deal. I know an equal sized group that can't handle Neil Young because of his vocal style. It's almost always a question of personal taste. Admittedly, Björk's vocals are indescribable in standard music terms. She's become the signature tone of Scandinavian alternative music (just look at Karin Dreijer Andersson of The Knife), but her talent goes beyond just sounding unique. She can go from soft, tentative volumes, to outraged growls within an instant (see "Alarm Call"). Vocalists like Thom Yorke of Radiohead and Jón "Jónsi" Birgisson of Sigur Rós both openly admit the influence.

Björk deserves some credit for songwriting on "Homogenic" as well. Her first two albums might have been alternative pop, but it was undisputedly pop. "Homogenic" brought on a new layer of maturity to her lyrics, reflecting on failed relationships ("Unravel"), bad behavior ("Immature") and hope ("All is Full of Love"). The best line of the bunch is the hilariously ironic line from "Alarm Call": "I'm a fucking Buddhist."

Her compositional skills are also on display here. "They" say that a great composer can take take a hundred instruments and make them sound like one. Björk doesn't. She features many, many instruments in her songs, but they all feel oddly detached. They work together and yet so independently that it almost feels minimalist. It's the opposite of the effect one feels listening to someone like Surfjan Steven who uses the same number of instruments to create incredibly dense packages. The independence of each instrument helps to emphasize Björk's voice, the true headliner. Her playing with balance adds a dose of oddity.

"Jóga" demonstrates the duality of instrumental approaches that Björk will take. The strings of the Icelandic String Octet adds a flavor of dark, Baroque pop, but the song builds into a dark, electronic approach reminiscent of the aggrotech movement within industrial music. She gets special kudos for use of the glass harmonica, a series of glass rings that forms an instrumental version of playing a series of wet wine glass rims, during the song "All Neon Like."

In sum, "Homogenic" is more than a curious album by a curious musician. It's a curious album that stands as an alternative landmark, and was named best album of the '90s by Slant magazine.

INTERESTING FACT: Björk seemed to be going through a faze where she was attracted to members of the British club scene prior to recording "Homogenic." She cited different songs as being about her recently ended relationships with trip-hop rapper Tricky and popular disc jockey Goldie.

Joy Division, "Unknown Pleasures"

Joy Division
"Unknown Pleasures"
Factory (1979)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die + 1000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die

I suppose a good place to start with Joy Division's "Unknown Pleasures" is the album cover. The shot of wavelengths from a pulsar (or a rotating neutron star) is among the most iconic pieces of album art of all time, and I'd go ahead and rank it among the best as well. The aesthetic value of the album ends there, and the real value begins here: "Unknown Pleasures" is the one album, more so than any other, that best represents the state of alternative music today.

This is a broad statement to make about a very broad genre of music, but I'll argue that it's true. First of all, there's Ian Curtis's voice. His delivery seems detached, but it's far from apathetic. So many artists have borrowed (intentionally or not) from Curtis's style, but have misunderstood it. It sounds lame but Curtis, for all his lack of ardor, felt everything he sang. If you don't believe it, you can read the lyrics into his suicide less than a year later. Many attribute his vocals to the formation of the goth movement of the early '80s, but Curtis never engaged in Bauhaus-style theatrics. I'd put him on par with a mellow Jim Morrison. He expresses what so many current apathy-dripping vocalists leave void.

Many instrumental aspects hail to the modern alternative music scene as well, such as the electronic chirps of "Insight" or aerosol can-as-rhythm in "She's Lost Control," but the group spends most of its time preceding the upcoming college rock movement. The "happy"-go-lucky riff on opener "Disorder" previews R.E.M., and "Candidate" could be a Nirvana ballad. Like Nirvana, Joy Division had grown under punk's wings, and the genre's influence shows in the faster, heavier numbers like riff-driven "Control" and "Wilderness." The post-punk genre is one that always confuses me, mainly for its disdain of actual punk. Joy Division is one of the bands deserving of the post-punk title, because it's one of the few bands that demonstrated what it learned from the title genre. Peter Hook's audible (and relevant) bass parts also suggest the dawn of college rock.

Even if the wide range of musical influences or Curtis's signature vocal style fail to convince you, the thing that tips Joy Division towards "most influential" is the band's place within pop culture. Which brings us back to that album cover. You can see that logo on T-shirts, on tattoos, on stickers. You can hear Division covered by bands from Dessau to Bloc Party to The Killers. Influence that widespread touches so many bands without them realizing it.

There's no way to trace what band has influenced more than another. And it's a tad conceited to claim just one group is that act. But between the combination of Joy Division's musical style, lyrical themes and overall recognizability, I would wager that it's a solid bet for the most influential band upon modern alternative rock. This is definitely a point I'd be willing to hear your opinion on. In the meantime, "Unknown Pleasures" is a great album regardless.

INTERESTING FACT: "Unknown Pleasures" was no. 2 on the first-ever UK Indie Chart. No. 1 was the equally classic (sarcasm) "Dirk Wears White Sox" by Adam and The Ants.

The Police, "Synchronicity"

The Police
"Synchronicity"
A&M (1983)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die + 1000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die

There are a number of things that prevent good, reputable bands from getting the attention they deserve. Among those that affect The Police is for one, that everyone's mom has a crush on vocalist/bassist Sting. Hot members always serve as a temporary blinder to the musical ability of a group (Guitarist Andy Summers and Stewart Copeland aren't too bad either). Also, repetition of hit singles, such as "Every Breath You Take," make people forget about how intelligent tracks really are. "Synchronicity" featured the band at its apex of creativity, and no matter how many times you've heard these tracks, it's worth another listen. "Synchronicity" proves that The Police deserves a progressive rock classification.

Throughout The Police's career, the group was recognized for its reggae-based sound. Summers liked to work in skank riffs, and the laid-back way in which Sting delivers his vocals added to the mood. The band was less-recognized for its clever ("Message In A Bottle") or edgy ("Roxanne") lyrics because of the band's popularity and because Sting just sounded like such a nice boy. On "Synchronicity," the group got away from the chill vibe. "Mother" features Summers handling the vocals, carrying on like a crazy while the band plays an eerie circus-theme. "Tea in The Sahara" is an ambient flash-forward to Sting's solo hit "Desert Rose," and "Murder By The Numbers" pushes the envelope of radio-friendly, taking a no-big-deal approach to serial killing, with backing cool jazz piano.

Those might be among the less popular tracks on the album, but the singles do equal justice to the band's songwriting skills. "Synchronicity II" explores the title-theory proposed by Carl Jung, that seemingly incidental occurrences cause unrelated incidents. In this case, it may sound ridiculous to correlate a bad day at work with the Loch Ness Monster rising, but those who understand the concept behind the title get what's going on. Also note how Summers' playing gets darker and darker as the song progresses, and as disaster approaches. "King of Pain" takes nearly two minutes before the guitar enters, and plays around with pace, delivering a dark message that's still catchy enough to be a hit.

Speaking of hits that are way scarier than they sound, the classic "Every Breath You Take" is the end all. Take a gentle riff, Sting's soothing voice, and you've got the chart-topping ballad. Until you listen to the lyrics. Then you've got a chart-topping song about an obsessive, possibly dangerous stalker. This, along with "Brown Sugar" by The Rolling Stones, is case-and-point for describing the ignorance of the pop listener. Not a bad song at all, but a laugh that thousands have had their first wedding dance to this.

The Police were one of the few bands to end on a high note. Sting and Copeland were already getting into physical altercations by the time the recording of "Synchronicity" was finished, and the band called it quits without doing another album. A little rough for fans, considering it seemed the band had hit full stride with this last album, but compared to many worn out acts, sometimes it's better to go out on top.

INTERESTING FACT: Sting's publisher told The Word magazine that "Every Breath You Take" generates a quarter to a third of the musician's publishing income every year.

David Byrne and Brian Eno, "My Life in The Bush of Ghosts"

David Byrne and Brian Eno
"My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts"
Sire (1981)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die + 1000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die

In "My Time in the Bush of Ghosts," we again find an album that is a struggle to classify. I especially enjoyed the Wikipedia suggestions for the record: "experimental" and "art rock." You can look at the two names on the album cover, David Byrne and Brian Eno, and make the assumption that the product inside will be both experimental and artsy. Eno is one of the most influential figures ever within the electronica genre, both as a producer and musician, and Byrne made a name for himself with the Talking Heads before releasing a boatload of solo albums, none of which sound alike. If I had to choose one artist to label as "experimental," it would be Byrne.

Moon and his cohort from 1001 Albums make no bones about "Bush's" most influential aspect being its emphasis on sampling. Byrne and Eno are the first to admit that they weren't the first to feature audio sampling in their recordings, but there's no record that uses the method as extensively or conclusively prior to "Ghosts." The duo didn't draw much from preexisting music, which makes it distinct from the style of sampling that later became prevalent in hip-hop. Rather, they took bits of radio interviews, religious ceremonies or whatever sounded interesting, and set it to music. The album could realistically be described as "Real Life: The Remix." Although the audio bits aren't from existing songs, it's not realistic to argue that Byrne and Eno's methods didn't inspire hip-hop producers like The Dust Brothers (who produced the dense beats for The Beastie Boys' "Paul's Boutique").

Byrne and Eno deserve credit for paving the way for sampling in the future, but they don't get enough respect for the way in which they used the samples. Songs struggle to keep the average listener attentive if there isn't a hook, or at least some type of vocal part. As a result, instrumental tracks generally fail to attain much popularity. Byrne didn't want to handle any vocals on "Bush," but he understood that he needed something to keep the listener's attention. Therefore the duo used the samples in place of a vocalist, pairing them with their band, which make the tracks arguably instrumental and standard vocal tracks at the same time.

The variety of samples keeps the album interesting, almost as if a different vocalist were handling each track. During "Regiment," it's a Lebanese mountain singer, and during "The Jezebel Spirit" it's an actual exorcist. "Mea Culpa" features the apology of a politician masterfully layered over itself by Eno. If the album had to be classified as a genre, the best bet would probably be funk. A number of players keep the bass popping like Sly and The Family Stone during most tracks, and the typical percussive approach is a dense layer of African drums. This may be an "art rock" album, but that doesn't stop it from making the listener move.

The best news about this record is that although it was the first album to use extensive sampling, it doesn't sound dated in the least. Byrne has a tendency to team up with other talented musicians to produce excellent albums (I'd also recommend his 2010 album with Fatboy Slim, "Here Lies Love"), but none are as quality as this one.

INTERESTING FACT: The 1981 release featured a song titled "Qu'ran," using a group of Muslims chanting text while music played in the background. However an Islamic group requested the duo drop the track from the 2006 re-release as they dubbed it "blasphemous." Byrne and Eno acquiesced. I just found it funny that it wasn't "blasphemous" in 1981.

Siouxsie and The Banshees, "Juju"

Siouxsie and The Banshees
"Juju"
Polydor (1981)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

I recently had a discussion with an esteemed colleague about the annoyance in classifying late-'70s alternative bands. There is, in my mind, an overwhelming gap between punk and the ubiquitous label "post-punk." Very often, as is the case with London bands like Siouxsie and The Banshees (and as we've already listened to, The Slits), being "punk" merely meant being friends with the Sex Pistols, and being "post-punk" was what happened after you stopped being friends with them. The Banshees clearly didn't put much stock in the "punk" label either, as its fourth album "Juju" demonstrates.

Released in 1981, "Juju" found the band on the verge of another emerging English trend: goth rock. As we've already seen with Bauhaus, goth specialized in melodrama with a sense of lurking horror. Susan "Siouxsie Sioux" Ballion was a more natural fit for the goth scene than she was with punk, whether she intended or not. Aesthetically, she was notorious for her thick eye makeup and wearing S&M garb during performances. Although punk is a very image-conscience genre, it does so in a less outright fashion than goth. I don't want to suggest that talented vocalists don't belong in punk, because Lord knows I hate the three-chord stereotype the genre has come to represent, but her voice is what I imagine Eleanor Audley (voice actress for Maleficent in "Sleeping Beauty") would sound like singing, seems too highbred for a genre as raucous as punk. The shift towards "post-punk" was fitting for her.

Thankfully, the band didn't submerge itself in goth altogether. Although Siouxsie's voice would be ideal for such a performance, the album's early and more popular tracks merely flirt with the darkness. Single "Spellbound" and the following number "Into The Light" are occasionally ominous, but nothing to scare a mainstream audience away. When songs like "Halloween" and "Monitor" appear, moaning and lyrics like "trick or treat" are delivered with a Tim Burton approach to horror, not a John Carpenter bloodbath. The Banshees are more similar to the secretly-happy Cure than Bauhaus. "Sin In My Heart" also suggests the influence of Joy Division, which had just released its two critically-acclaimed albums prior to the release of "Juju."

That's just the story for the better tracks on the album however. Siouxsie and the rest of the gang give in to peer pressure in some of the album's latter tracks. She demonstrates how adept at screeching she can be during "Head Cut," and guitar dissonance and slides replace riffs during the closer "Voodoo Dolly," along with the echoing effect added to Siouxsie's voice.

Just like the album falls between punk and goth, it also falls somewhere between the goth bands most people can identify with. I would take The Banshees' lack of melodrama over Bauhaus any day, but the band never merges gloom with pop sensibility quite as well as The Cure, which isn't a slight.

INTERESTING FACT: Siouxsie married the band's drummer Budgie (yes, the same guy from The Slits, who I admittedly did not give enough credit to during this post) in 1991, a year prior to the group disbanding, which makes it the first breakup caused by a marriage and not by a divorce (they divorced in 2007, just in time for a reunion tour. I'm serious).

Belle and Sebastian, "If You're Feeling Sinister"

Belle and Sebastian
"If You're Feeling Sinister"
Jeepster (1996)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die + 1000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die

Sorry friends; I've been away taking care of various matters for the last couple of weeks, so now, without any flair or attempts at an opening paragraph: "If You're Feeling Sinister" by Scottish group Belle and Sebastian.

Belle and Sebastian, a rotating group of instrumentalists surrounding primary vocalist Stuart Murdoch, is a band that simultaneously deserves a nod from dozens of groups today, but at the same time was not enormously groundbreaking. As a seven piece during "Sinister," the band was certainly not the first to incorporate alternative instruments into its brand of rock. Single "Seeing Other People" features a cello largely taking the place of the bass, a trick today most popularly employed by Vampire Weekend (Isobel Campbell, the cellist on this album, is currently part of a touring duo with Mark Lanegan, former vocalist of The Screaming Trees, last week's guests). The occasional trumpet solo from Mick Cooke (such as on "The Stars of Track and Field") are also reminiscent of later music from CAKE. Instrumentally, as a whole, the group most resembles The Arcade Fire.

On the other hand, Belle and Sebastian and Fire are on opposite ends of the spectrum. For all of the instrumental similarities, the approaches are dramatically different. The Arcade Fire tends towards bombastic, while B&S are understated in every aspect of its performances. Compare for example the organ introductions to Fire's "Intervention" and Sebastian's "Mayfly." Whereas the former is loud and proud, the latter is subdued (undoubtedly from both playing style and production trickery). Every song on the album features gentle strumming and gentle drumming. It's tough to label the B&S as "alternative rock," but the group is just too ornate to be "folk." The silence suits Murdoch well, as his voice is almost a quieter version of Decemberist frontman Colin Meloy, meaning it couldn't compete with full-blown orchestration.

Of course, Murdoch's strength isn't in his volume, but in his songwriting skills. He doesn't care much for typical AAB structure, but leaves just enough of a hook or repeated phrase to keep a listener's attention. "Seeing Other People" demonstrates his cleverness as a writer. What seems, based on title and a majority of the lyrics, to be a break up ballad, is actually the narrator calling for his narcissistic self to branch out, as opposed to "kissing your elbow…kissing your reflection."

Belle and Sebastian isn't the best start for every aspiring alternative listener, due to its subtle nature. If you prefer easygoing folk music, it's great, but if you prefer harder rock and heavier guitars, check out The Arcade Fire first.

INTERESTING FACT: Just like with its music, the band likes to keep a low profile. In the early days, they were unrecognizable enough that they could get away with sending friends to take their places during official photo shoots, including the booklet for "If You're Feeling Sinister."

The Slits, "Cut"

The Slits
"Cut"
Island (1979)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

Society is fairly progressive today compared to back in the day. And yet girl groups still hardly get any respect. You would think that because culture has enjoyed black music from the earliest decades of the 20th century (despite its racist tendencies), it would be able to overcome its misogyny just long enough to appreciate an entirely-female band. With the exception of a few critically-acclaimed groups, such as Sleater-Kinney, we just haven't been able to get over the "Josie and The Pussycats" stereotype placed upon female bands. Punk music was a launching point for dozens of girl groups during the '70s thanks to its "anyone can do it" and "so what if it sells" attitudes. The Slits was the biggest name during the onset of girl-punk.

The band didn't pull any punches, lest anyone question the honesty of its intentions. Before you can even pop open the slipcase for "Cut," the band's debut, you're greeted with a picture of the group's three female members bare-chested and covered in mud for tribal effect. Vocalist Ariane "Ari Up" Forster also has no qualms about peppering the lyrics with obscenities, enough to compete with The Sex Pistols, which served as the figurehead for British punk at the time.

Songs such as "Love and Romance" and "FM" ("Frequent Mutilation" in this case) serve as satirical examinations of the titular subjects, in a similar approach to how the Dead Kennedys would use track titles the following year. "Shoplifting" also seems to be a precursor to DK's "Stealing People's Mail" in its short and punchy delivery during a narrative of minor crime.

The punk instrumental approach stops at "Shoplifting," however, which leads many to label The Slits as post-punk instead. The group takes the punk gang-vocal approach (popularized stateside by The Misfits) and develops it into a series of harmonies and overlapping vocal parts (most complex in "So Tough"). On the other hand, the instrumentals have a minimalist tendency. Whereas typical punk guitar is constant and driving, the playing of Viv Albertine is made up of short bits between breaks, not a steady riff.

The drumming of Peter "Budgie" Clarke (original female percussionist Paloma "Palmolive" Romero left the group after a tiff over the album's nude cover) is the most exciting element on the album. He plays straightforward rhythms, but frequently and uncomfortably (in a good way) changes riffs, most notably in "Typical Girls." The combination of Albertine and Budgie's styles results in what could be a called a "post-reggae" sound.

I'll grant you, there have been plenty of girl groups that live up to the stereotypes and don't contribute anything to the music world. The Slits is not one of them.

INTERESTING FACT: The Slits were tight in The Sex Pistols' "inner circle," and it's appropriate as Ari Up's stepfather is John "Johnny Rotten" Lydon.

Happy Mondays, "Bummed"

Happy Mondays
"Bummed"
Factory (1988)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

Regardless of what Oasis's Liam Gallagher says about British rock, after the whole British Invasion thing, most of anglo-rock has been a case of following in the footsteps of what came before you. Late '80s Manchester group Happy Mondays is another example, but that's not to say the group didn't leave its own mark on its scene. "Bummed," the band's second record, both established the sound the group would become known for, while borrowing from a number of musical sources that came before. First, the influences.

First, there's the ever-lingering phantom of Mod rock, which has been present in British rock since its peak during the '60s. Although Happy Mondays was rapidly traveling towards electronica-infused rock, even Paul McCartney said that when he saw the group, it "reminded me of the Beatles in their 'Strawberry Fields' phase." The comparisons are made especially obvious during closing track "Lazyitis," which openly steals its melody from "Ticket to Ride," but replaces the lyrics with the story of a man "that shot the boss/ I pinned him down and blew his face off." The contradicting disposition alone makes the song a hilarious diversion.

But, just as the early Beatles borrowed from American country and R&B, Happy Mondays looked to the States for inspiration as well. Opener "Country Song" is purposefully stereotypical in its portrayal of country-western music, but guitarist Mark Day keeps the country feel going with the simple-chord riff for "Moving in With" (compare the guitar style with Elvis Presley's "Mystery Train"). He changes styles dramatically towards the end of the album, mimicking Motown funk instead on "Brain Dead" and "Bring A Friend."

For all of the influence the band borrowed, it doesn't get enough credit for the effect it had on its fellow Manchester musicians. The groups in the area fit into a sub-genre known as "Madchester," which generally took rock music and incorporated house electronica and dance music to make it more club-worthy. Many attribute the rise of the scene to the more popular Stone Roses (and nearby Liverpudlians Primal Scream), but the the production style of Martin Hannett on "Bummed," adding echo and reverb to the percussion, is true onset of the movement's popularity.

Happy Mondays may have been overshadowed over time by the bigger acts mentioned before, but "Bummed" served as an ignition point for the "Madchester" movement. Plus the group's following album, "Pills 'n' Thrills and Bellyaches," which will be featured later in this blog, would earn the band more renown.

INTERESTING FACT: The longest Wikipedia article on any of the six band members in Happy Mondays is for Mark "Bez" Berry, the maraca player/stage dancer. He was also in the group Black Grape with vocalist Shaun Ryder, but left over "artistic differences," whatever artistic differences a maraca player might feel. Basically, he's the real life version of Will Ferrell's cowbell-playing Gene Frenkle. As a result, to call someone a "Bez" in England is to suggest their contributions to a project are negligible.

Primal Scream, "Vanishing Point"

Primal Scream
"Vanishing Point"
Creation (1997)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

The wonderful thing about concept albums is that they can be about almost anything. If a recording artist decided that he hated my blog and wanted to make an entire album dedicated to that malice, he could. More often than not however, concepts get too bizarre and fail trying to string together a narrative, therefore simple concepts have a higher success rate. Scottish alternative band Primal Scream had a simple idea: Why not draft a theoretical soundtrack for the cult road-film "Vanishing Point?" Hence the self-explanatory title to the album.

The band's main argument was that the film, which is a montage of car chases and car races, deserved a more appropriate score than the collection of hippie-era rock that was popular at the time. Perhaps, as a second reason for making the album, the requirements of creating such soundscapes allowed the band to revisit the electronica-infused style of its critical smash, "Screamadelica." The album following the Mercury Prize-winning "Screamadelica" was "Give Out But Don't Give Up," a less well-received effort.

Now although both "Screamadelica" and "Vanishing Point" both meld rock and electronica, they are by no means the same animal. The former is more dance-happy (and a little more drug-influenced as well) but "Vanishing Point" aims to frame car chases, and it does so by emulating different styles of electronica. It took cues from both the throbbing bass of dub (not dubstep) and the eerie sound effects of ambient.

Single "Kowalski" (named after the film's protagonist) makes heavy use of both, with echoing chirps and a thick wall of bass adding a "lost in the jungle" approach to the high-speeds suggested by the percussion. Vocalist Billy Gillespie delivers his minimal lines in a creepy whisper, and vocal parts from the film are laced into the bridge.

The dub approach continues throughout the album, with instrumental tracks like "Get Duffy" (featuring a fine addition of baritone sax), more eerie vocals and echoing wind chimes on "Stuka," and even a Mötörhead/Hawkwind cover of the song "Motorhead." Primal Scream only takes breaks from the breakneck pace for "Star" and album closer "Long Life," which sound like they could be intended as tributes to the original rock soundtrack of the film.

The fact stands that "Vanishing Point" makes for a great car-film soundtrack, and traces of it can be heard in the massive highway scene of "The Matrix Reloaded." It's an album that will appeal to both fans of electronica and Britrock-revival. Primal Scream even sounds a bit like Oasis at times on this album, even if it's a version of Oasis that Noel Gallagher would hate.

INTERESTING FACT: The Dodge Challenger was the musclecar of choice for the film, mainly because Fox "owed Chrysler a favor" for giving them cheap rentals for previous flicks.

Beck, "Mutations"

Beck
"Mutations"
Geffen (1998)
1000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die

It's somewhat ironic that Tom Moon chooses "Mutations" as the best representative of alternative artist Beck Hansen (or, more simply, Beck). The album preceding this one, "Odelay," served as both a critical and popular smash, taking a more "hip-hop" approach and relying heavily on samples. "Mutations" returns the focus to "natural" instrumentation, and keeps it there about as long as any Beck album does. Although it's impossible to say that any record from an artist as diverse as Beck stands especially apart from the rest, this one's pretty close.

The most common misconception about "Mutations" is that it serves as a tribute to the Brazilian Tropicalia movement we looked at with Caetano Veloso. Sure enough, there is the samba-rock single named after the genre, and the title of the album may or may not be a reference to the group "Os Mutantes" (compatriots of Veloso), but there are quite a few genres that make appearances, as is the case with every Beck album. If anything, Beck's career stands as a tribute to the spirit of Tropicalia. After all, a major theme behind the movement was artistic "cannibalism," or enveloping the Brazilian art forms that came before and turning it into a collective mass of the culture's musical experience.

Take the first two tracks of the album for example, "Cold Brains" and "Nobody's Fault But My Own." At their cores, both are just Beck strumming an acoustic guitar. "Brains" features an onslaught of electronic chirps and synths (plus a harmonica bridge) while "Fault" is backed by the ethereal drone of an Indian tamboura. Beck uses his "anti-folk" background like Legos, starting with basic blocks and building vastly different monuments from them. The approach isn't much different from that of those behind the Tropicalia movement.

If there is any common ground between the songs however, it's that many sound like they belong in small bars, not major venues as most of "Odelay's" tracks did. "Cancelled Check" is still a raucous affair, but the slide guitar and upright piano sound more at home in an country-western saloon (until its cacophonous ending), and the final four tracks on the album, beginning with "Bottle of Blues" and ending with "Static," combine the slide guitar, upright piano and harmonica to some degree to accomplish the mood. For someone who jumps styles as often as Beck, "Mutations" serves as a stepping down of sorts from the relative jauntiness of "Odelay."

Moon seems to think this is the best jumping off point when listening to Beck, and I'm not sure that I agree. "Mutations" is probably my favorite album from him, but those who are less inclined to rock music might get a bigger kick from "Odelay" or even "Mellow Gold." I'm not sure there is a proper "starting point" for Beck, so might as well give this one a shot.

INTERESTING FACT: Among the many musicians credited on "Mutations" is David Campbell for arranging, conducting and viola. Campbell, who has done similar work for many artists, including Metallica and KISS, is Beck's father.

Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band, "Safe As Milk"

Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band
"Safe As Milk"
Buddha (1967)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

There are thousands (or at least hundreds) of artists that are "experimental," that blend genres, that are eccentric. In the world of rock music, I would narrow the list down to three figures who stand atop the metaphorical mountain of such artists: Frank Zappa, Tom Waits and Don "Captain Beefheart" Van Vliet. All three are commonly associated, but militantly individual from each other. We'll get to see plenty of each during this trek, but "Safe As Milk," the debut from Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band is as good a place as any to start.

Vliet, like loads of artists we've already listened to, isn't content dawdling in just one genre. We've seen the incorporation of jazz elements, classical elements, world elements; you name it. Unlike the rest of these artists however, Vliet doesn't feel the need to combine them. Captain Beefheart isn't an "alternative" artist; It's an act that can and will partake in several genres with no regard for the song that preceded it.

Check out tracks four through eight. "Dropout Boogie" is an otherwise normal rock 'n' roll number, aside from Vlien's comical and goblin-esque voice. "I'm Glad" is an R&B/soul track featuring (again, comical) falsetto background vocals and understated guitars. "Electricity" is the highlight of the album, a song that could be described as country-western thanks to a slide guitar (played by up-and-coming legend Ry Cooder) that blends curiously and marvelously with a space-age theremin as Vlien revisits his sinister voice. "Yellow Brick Road" sounds buoyant like a children's TV show theme, and "Abba Zaba" (named after a candy bar) uses African percussion and Juju-style pedal steel guitar (as with King Sunny Ade). Vlien's "tribal" approach to vocals for the track is almost offensive.

Most, including 1001 Albums, choose to highlight the album's bluesier portions as the most representative of Beefheart's style. It's a fair argument, as the genre takes the lion's share of the tracks on "Milk" (including the opening three), and served as Vlien's jumping off point into music. Guitarists Cooder and Alex St. Clair have no issues capturing the Delta feel, and Vliet, not exactly a vocal virtuoso, feels no shame in howling just like Howlin' Wolf. The difference is that the lyrics in tracks like "Zig Zag Wanderer" don't make much sense at all.

The genre-jumping stunt that Vlien pulls off on "Milk" is a risky one, and it'll alienate most mainstream listeners. Still, one can tell from the placement of "Call on Me," an almost normative song, that he still had mainstream ambition for his pastiche of an album. Perhaps, after that fell through, he was inspired to go all in and craft "Trout Mask Replica," a truly wacky classic that we'll see later.

INTERESTING FACT: I found this series of events to be far more interesting than a mere fact. A "Herb Bermann" was listed as a cowriter on eight of the tracks on "Safe As Milk," however no one, including Vlien, claimed to know anything about him. He was presumed to be an entity dreamt up by Vlien until 2000 when a journalist finally tracked him down for an interview. Here's a link to the tale of a Captain Beefheart fan who spent an awful lot of time hunting him down.

The Beatles, "Revolver"

The Beatles
"Revolver"
Parlophone (1966)
1000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die + 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

Stepping back from the recent barrage of Beatles records we've looked at, I realized that I used "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" as a reference point for just about everything. It's sensible enough, considering that the album is probably the most highly regarded record of all time. That being said, "Revolver" still stands (in my opinion) as THE seminal Beatles album.

Each stage of the band is present on this album: the skiffle band of the early '60s, the psychedelic hippies, the world music explorers. "Revolver" is like a gallery, with each moment in the band's history framed and on display. At first, I was going to attribute this to the group's "experimentation," but it felt wrong. For one, many of the albums featured in this blog are here because of "experimentation," and perhaps you're getting sick of reading about it. But more importantly, I don't feel that "Revolver" is experimentation, such as "Rubber Soul" and "A Hard Day's Night" were.

Take for example the songs "Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)" from "Soul" and "Love To You" from "Revolver." On the former, George Harrison is truly experimenting with the sitar, adding its distinct melodic style to Western pop music. On the latter, Harrison is not experimenting, but rather playing actual, Indian classical ragas as he is accompanied on the tablas (played by a professional, not Ringo Starr). It's only pop in that Harrison's lyrics are English and rooted in pop sensibility. The same cannot be said for the album's biggest trip, "Tomorrow Never Knows," where a dense wall of sound, including the drone of Harrison's tambura, back John Lennon as he recites text from the Tibetan Book of The Dead. The Beatles were in a fortunate position as the biggest band in history, to do whatever the heck they wanted and not be punished commercially for it.

Also consider Paul McCartney's biggest contribution to "Revolver," the classic "Eleanor Rigby." For one, it marked a decidedly downcast mood for the band, but is even more notable for the group's approach in the studio. The contribution of strings was not particularly groundbreaking; McCartney was undoubtedly influenced by Brian Wilson's work on "Pet Sounds." However, Wilson was much more experimental in his methods. The Beach Boy recorded countless instrumental parts for every song, namely the famed "God Only Knows," and then rearranged it all to his liking, casting aside whatever didn't fit. The Beatles on the other hand never bothered to record any instrumental bits for "Eleanor Rigby." They contributed vocal harmonies and left it alone. It seems less like an experiment and more like a carefully planned assault on pop music.

As the band's musical stages are fitted onto "Revolver," so are its historical stages. The band never played any of "Revolver" live because its last show was in San Francisco, 1966, before its release. "Revolver" was the first of six albums The Beatles would release sans tour. It was just as well. Songs like "Eleanor Rigby" and "Love to You" aren't built for live performances. They are, however, built perfectly for The Beatles.

INTERESTING FACT: McCartney claimed that no actual "Eleanor Rigby" existed until a grave bearing the same name was unearthed (metaphorically) in Liverpool. McCartney and Lennon had met in the very same cemetery, and McCartney admitted that perhaps his sub-conscience had remembered the headstone. He maintains that the song is in no way based on the real Rigby's life.

"Eleanor Rigby"