Post #5: The Current State Of Music

Author's Note: This article was drafted in March of '07. It may have continuity issues, as I have only now chosen to finish it. Let me know of any problems. Enjoie.

I'm going to come out and admit it: I do, on occasion, read Spin Magazine. I don't have a problem, I can stop at any time, but it does happen.

Ages ago, I picked up a copy of Spin magazine, because of it's nice little review of Arcade Fire's newest gem, Neon Bible, and an interview with Iggy Pop, whom, I've realized, is fantastic to read about (See Paste, March 2007). Whilst thumbing through it's pages, and sneering at Pete Wentz (and feeling saddened by our mutual respect for Refused's The Shape Of Punk To Come), I came across a reader's poll, of the best and worst of 2006. My Chemical Romance's surprise masterwork The Black Parade ranked as the best and worst of the year, while the band also scored best and worst of the year. But then, opposite that page, I find myself at staring at a rock hero if there ever was one: Thom Yorke. The Radiohead lead singer had been named, by the pop-rock rag of the millenia, the solo artist of 2006.

Well, BULLY for you, Mr. Yorke!

But one thing still confuses me: When did Spin readers wise up? The cover of the issue that I picked up today is one of several I've come across in recent days with Fall Out Boy as the cover band, and last month's was My Chemical Romance. When the hell did they start digging Yorke's strange lyrics and, most importantly, the overall catchy beats on his solo album, The Eraser?

My friends, we live in a strange world. Phony Beatlemania has bitten the dust, and we now fellate bands that all sound the same (Paging Mr. Wentz and Mr. Urie...), but we neglect artists who put their blood, sweat, tears, and talent (oh, the talent!) into decent records. Rolling Stone was once a respectable source of music news, but they took the last train for the coast and have devoted a great lot of black-and-white to faux-punk rockers Green Day and Fall Out Boy (who also made cover this month). Sure, decent reviewers still give a nice bit of time to great artists (TV On The Radio's brilliant 2006 release Return To Cookie Mountain was one of the few albums I've never heard a bad word about, and likewise for the afore mentioned Neon Bible, which was the main review for the Spin issue that prompted this post). But why in hell's name are bands like Panic! At The Disco so well-liked?

I know, I'm rambling a bit. What I say about these bands is spiteful, hurtful to some, and probably sounds downright bitter to most. Most people would ask if I dislike these bands because I don't like their music, or because they're popular? Paying attention to my music history, the latter seems more likely, because I stopped liking Fall Out Boy after they got popular. But, the question is: is it popularity that makes people stop (or start, in most cases) liking the music, or is the popularity making artists produce music for the fans, rather than for themselves?

Am I crazy for starting to dislike bands once they become popular? Could it be that people ruin these bands for me? Could it be that fandom clouds the judgment of the artists, and leads them to do things to keep a fan-base?

Post #4: Six Life-Changing Albums

Thinking back on the gobs of music I've listened to, I realize that there are several albums that have, essentially, stopped being records to me; they've become small vignettes that make up the film of my musical history.

What follows is an account of the ten records that have changed my life, in some way. Without these, I doubt I'd be the same person. Without them, I expect I'd still be listening to Linkin Park and talking about how deep they are. Enjoy.

1) The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
Capital Records - 1967

I remember exactly where I was when I picked this album up for the first time. My mum and I had driven out to Sweet, Oregon to see a couple people she was selling insurance to, as this was what she did at the time. On the way back, we stopped at - and I hesitate to mention this - a 24-Hour Wal-Mart, because, why the hell not? We picked up About A Boy on DVD, a pair of Pink Floyd pjs, and this record, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. I wish I could tell a different story about getting this particular album, but no, I picked it up at Wal-Mart at around 1 in the morning, after a very long drive to sell insurance to some couple.

Sgt. Pepper changed everything, really. It's the album that changed music itself, and changed a lot of people. People get into pub fights over which Beatles album is the best, and I'd gladly take a pool-cue to the temple in defence of this record. I remember listening to this record for the first time and thinking, wow, I use to hate on these fellows? What the hell was wrong with me? This is perfection in song form. And thus, my ways changed. I stopped being such a pretentious little pratt, and I started listening to everything, in search of what was really good in the music world. Thus far, nothing has truly matched up to this record. I'm still looking, though, but I doubt I'll find it.

2) Radiohead - OK Computer
Capital Records - 1997

I picked up OK Computer at a little record store in Hillsboro, called CD/Game Exchange. The record store isn't there before, and I only went there three times. However, all three times, I left with something.

The last visit, I sold a number of video games, and got $80 in credit. I got Violent Femmes' Violent Femmes, The Mars Volta's Scabdates, System Of A Down's Mezmerize and Hypnotize, Björk's Telegram, and OK Computer. I had never listened to it, and I'd heard loads of great stuff about it, so I thought, what the hell? I've got money to burn, I might as well!

I didn't listen to it for a number of months. I first listened to it on a small motorbike trip with my father, his girlfriend, and a couple of family friends. I reckon, I listened to it 8 times over the course of the day. I think I tried to listen to something else as well, but I couldn't. I came right back to the intro of "Airbag".

I came home and downloaded Kid A. And The Bends. And everything else they had put out, EPs and everything. And I listened to it all, repeatedly, until I knew the songs in and out. Radiohead became my all-time favourite band after that, and I have never been able to shake this album. It is superb from the guitar intro of "Airbag" to the chime that signals the end of "The Tourist", and it is damn near impossible to hate this record.

It's really quite hard to explain its influence in my life, but it's worth noting that, after this, I really had no choice but to get rid of my Fall Out Boy records. It would be like Athiesm after having tea with god herself. Bad analogy, but really, this particular record short circuits my brain.

3) Pavement - Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain
Matador Records - 1994

I first heard Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain after looking for lo-fi bands to get into. I listened to it once, and thought to myself, this is okay, but not what I'm looking for, and filed it away.

When my computer crashed a month or two ago, I grabbed my burnt copy of Crooked Rain, and put in my stereo. It pretty much stayed there for awhile. It blew my mind! It blew my mind with its simple brilliance, and the fact that I had ignored it for so fucking long! I really don't go very long without listening to this record, and every time I do, I bask in its glory. I feel blessed to have heard it.

4) The Mountain Goats - The Sunset Tree
4AD - 2004

Like the aforementioned Pavement, I first heard about The Mountain Goats when I was looking into Lo-Fi. I got their Ghana album (a b-side compilation), because it had over 20 tracks, and it would've been wonderful to get a firm hold on the sound of the band. It was pretty much...some of the worst stuff I'd ever heard. I didn't find out until later that it was a rejects disc, so I didn't know that John Darnielle was better than that album.

So, I read a review of The Sunset Tree, and decided to give them another shot. I had it in my "to be changed" folder for a couple months before I processed and listened to it. It kept a firm grip on my soul, and my ears, for the next two weeks, give or take. Such was the case with Radiohead's OK Computer, when I would make a bid for freedom by turning on another record, but finding myself listening to Darnielle singing about St. Joseph's Baby Aspirin, Bartles & Jaymes, and you, or your memory. I finally managed to break away from it for a time, to listen to other things.

A couple of weeks later, I turned it on again. I got to the song "Love Love Love", the second-to-last track on the album, and discovered, to my astonishment, that that there were tears in my eyes. Oh dear lord, Darnielle, you managed to break me. He did this again with the title track from their next album, Get Lonely, of course, but since then, I've held a grudge against Darnielle for cutting into my heart with his skillsaw of brilliance. I've never quite managed to figure out why the record made me weep, but I don't think I want to know. That's something The Sunset Tree hasn't told me about yet.

5) Barenaked Ladies - Stunt
Reprise - 1998

Yeah, I kind of like this album. I got it for Christmas the year it came out, because I liked the song "One Week" so goddamn much. Yeah, you remember that song, don't you? Stop lying, you know you do.

This is the very first album I ever became obsessed with. And by obsessed, I don't mean, like, how any other 8 year old would practically wet themselves over the mere mention of The Spice Girls or N'Sync. I'm talking the way I obsessed over OK Computer, The Sunset Tree, and Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. We're talking about five times daily listening, belting out the lyrics of the songs that I knew far too well, which included the track "Alcohol". It's not a well known song, but I'd reckon my parents never heard me singing "Alcohol, my party-time necessity/Alcohol, alternative to feeling like yourself" or "I thought that drinking just to get drunk was a waste of precious booze."

I also reckon that this album set the gold standard for musical obsessions to come. I did it with the aforementioned records, and I did it with The White Stripes' Elephant. Any sort of musical obsession that came after this odd little record was just a slanted and enchanted version of the chokehold that this album kept on me 'lo those many years ago.

6) Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
Nonesuch Records - 2002

Rock fans have heard this fucking record if they know what's good for them. This is the album. This album represents a struggle between a major label and a small rock band from Chicago. This album represents the 00s as a decade, as far as I'm concerned. Good albums have come and gone thus far this decade, but this? Now this is what I call a slice of fried gold.

I don't have any real backstory behind how I came around to listening to Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, besides hearing how good it was, though I'm always shocked about how brilliant such a simple record is. Why it's so good is beyond me, to be perfectly honest. This record means a great lot to me, but I can't explain why. Maybe one day, I'll be able to tell anyone who asks, at great length, about how amazing this record is and why. Until then, I'll leave it up to everyone else to figure it out. Get right on that.