Barring an amazing late career resurgence, the span between 1993's Painful and 2000's And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out will probably be regarded as YLT's heyday. But it is important to remember that even during this period, Hoboken's finest could still turn out some total crap.
YLT are at their best when the tension between Ira Kaplan's undeniably explosive talent is tempered by the unbelievable discipline of his wife Georgia and bass player James McNew. Together Hubley and McNew are probably the tightest, most versatile, rhythm section in all of indie rock...and without them Ira is just a middle aged Jew masturbating on a guitar or organ.
Case in point, Attack on Love.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Attack of the Killer Bees - Archers of Loaf - All The Nations Airports - 1996
Instrumental...though it is impressive that Bachman could make his guitar sound like a killer bee.
Atoms for Peace - Thom Yorke - Eraser - 2006
Saturday evening I took a trip up to Cityfield for the annual visit of the Cincinnati Mets. I met up with my friends around the Penn Station area for some pre-gaming before the first pitch. The problem with this plan is that the Penn Station area ("The Fashion District") is not really a friendly place for my type of bar. The whole zone is covered with tourist traps, fratty sports bars, and faux-Irish pubs that are usually filled with the spill over of Tourists and fratty sports fans. So, it seemed like a totally great idea to go to Deno's Party House and Bikini Bar.
The logic was, ok we amuse ourselves by going into a shitty dive bar where the bar tenders are all FOB russian girls in bikinis...sounds like a win-win situation, right? The problem here is this...we aren't usually the kind of guys to go these bars. Now I don't mean that in a "We're too classy to go here" kind of way, but rather...single men go to bars to meet women, attached men go to bars to NOT HAVE TO TALK TO WOMEN. If we wanted to talk to women, we'd stay home, where we get plenty of that.
We sat at the mostly empty bar (it was only 5 in the evening on a Saturday) and ordered our beers only to have our every attempt at having a conversation interrupted by one of the two (or both) bartenders attempting to "flirt" with us. We tried to make it clear that we really just wanted to drink and talk amongst ourselves, but that didn't really work. At one point, the smarter of the two asked us our names and my buddy introduced himself as "Terd Fergeson" (classy as always, Anand)...this resulted in me laughing uncontrollably. Unfortunately our bikini clad bartender took this as me laughing at my friend's odd name and tried to console him and tell him that it was a very manly name...which resulted in me laughing further. Finally we just had to put down our beers and head for another bar.
Atoms for peace is one of the more underwhelming songs on Yorke's underwhelming solo album. Like much of the album, it's not bad...but, so what?
The logic was, ok we amuse ourselves by going into a shitty dive bar where the bar tenders are all FOB russian girls in bikinis...sounds like a win-win situation, right? The problem here is this...we aren't usually the kind of guys to go these bars. Now I don't mean that in a "We're too classy to go here" kind of way, but rather...single men go to bars to meet women, attached men go to bars to NOT HAVE TO TALK TO WOMEN. If we wanted to talk to women, we'd stay home, where we get plenty of that.
We sat at the mostly empty bar (it was only 5 in the evening on a Saturday) and ordered our beers only to have our every attempt at having a conversation interrupted by one of the two (or both) bartenders attempting to "flirt" with us. We tried to make it clear that we really just wanted to drink and talk amongst ourselves, but that didn't really work. At one point, the smarter of the two asked us our names and my buddy introduced himself as "Terd Fergeson" (classy as always, Anand)...this resulted in me laughing uncontrollably. Unfortunately our bikini clad bartender took this as me laughing at my friend's odd name and tried to console him and tell him that it was a very manly name...which resulted in me laughing further. Finally we just had to put down our beers and head for another bar.
Atoms for peace is one of the more underwhelming songs on Yorke's underwhelming solo album. Like much of the album, it's not bad...but, so what?
Friday, July 10, 2009
Atomic Power - Uncle Tupelo - March 16th - 20th, 1992 - 1992
If Uncle Tupelo was the godfather of the Y'alternative movement, then March 16th-20th, 1992 probablys marks the subgenre's first official album. No Depression was a gritty, punky rock album with occassional country larks...the country influence was more pronounced on the follow up Still Feel Gone, but it was really this (largely acoustic) album on which the band let it's country folk flow. Peter Buck was even brought in for some feedback noise, giving tribute to the heavy work done by "Don't Go Back to Rockville" in the creation of country-punk ethos.
I still stand by Anodyne as the band's best album, but for purity of focus it's hard to beat March, and a track like the Oh Brother, Where Art Thou-esque "Atomic Power" is as good a place to hear that as any.
I still stand by Anodyne as the band's best album, but for purity of focus it's hard to beat March, and a track like the Oh Brother, Where Art Thou-esque "Atomic Power" is as good a place to hear that as any.
Atomic - Blondie - Eat to the Beat - 1979
So the other night I was out with my buddy Anand and we ended up in some wine bar on the outskirts of Soho/Tribecca. In our quest to find new bars, we had intended to close out our evening at City Winery on Varrick, only to discover that there was some sort of show going on that you had to have tickets for to even come into the bar. Having decided to close out the evening with wine, we ended up going into this hole in the wall place.
It was quiet and tasteful seeming, with oak book shelves and a jazz tro playing in the corner. The forty something, librarian-ish hostess spotted us and took an almost immediate dislike to us. It's probable that she assumed that we were wasted (correctly) and that we might cause a scene. Little did she know that we were trained professional drunks with ninja-like skills at keeping it together. She was condescending from the get go, trying to usher us into a back corner.
Once we were seated, we ordered a couple of glasses of wine and a meat and cheese plate and got on the business of planning our next adventure. A youngish waitress brought out our glasses of wine, and promptly proceeded to dump both glasses on me. Now I wasn't dressed terribly well, and it was Rose, so it wasn't really a big deal...but still...
Anand and I both looked at each other to confirm that niether one of our drunk assess had been responsible for the accident. The condescending hostess zoomed over to wipe down the table and move us to another one, her condescention now tempered by the knowledge that her staff had fucked up...but still present. Our wine, was of course on the house. The waitress who had spilled on me refused to look at either us, or her boss for the rest of the night...spending the following half an hour furiously scrubbing the espresso machine.
As we wrapped up, the hostess came around to give us our check and asked what had made us come into her place. Anand told her that we liked to wander from neighborhood to neighborhood and check out different bars.
You could see the lightbulb go off in her head...she thought we were restaurant reviewers...and she realized that her waitress had probably shot the review in the foot. It was totally amazing the speed with which that condescention turned to obsequeisness. Our remaining five minutes in the bar were filled with ass kissing on a level I've rarely experienced. We quietly left, tipping well, and letting her stew in the fear that she'd shot her business in the foot.
I'm just barely old enough to remember the time when Heart of Glass was a hit. To me, Blondie were always that band. It was only as I got older that I discovered that there was a much more interesting band behind the hits. Atomic, with it's Spaghetti Western Guitar, disco drums and typically haunting vocals show a band with much more going for it than you'd think.
It was quiet and tasteful seeming, with oak book shelves and a jazz tro playing in the corner. The forty something, librarian-ish hostess spotted us and took an almost immediate dislike to us. It's probable that she assumed that we were wasted (correctly) and that we might cause a scene. Little did she know that we were trained professional drunks with ninja-like skills at keeping it together. She was condescending from the get go, trying to usher us into a back corner.
Once we were seated, we ordered a couple of glasses of wine and a meat and cheese plate and got on the business of planning our next adventure. A youngish waitress brought out our glasses of wine, and promptly proceeded to dump both glasses on me. Now I wasn't dressed terribly well, and it was Rose, so it wasn't really a big deal...but still...
Anand and I both looked at each other to confirm that niether one of our drunk assess had been responsible for the accident. The condescending hostess zoomed over to wipe down the table and move us to another one, her condescention now tempered by the knowledge that her staff had fucked up...but still present. Our wine, was of course on the house. The waitress who had spilled on me refused to look at either us, or her boss for the rest of the night...spending the following half an hour furiously scrubbing the espresso machine.
As we wrapped up, the hostess came around to give us our check and asked what had made us come into her place. Anand told her that we liked to wander from neighborhood to neighborhood and check out different bars.
You could see the lightbulb go off in her head...she thought we were restaurant reviewers...and she realized that her waitress had probably shot the review in the foot. It was totally amazing the speed with which that condescention turned to obsequeisness. Our remaining five minutes in the bar were filled with ass kissing on a level I've rarely experienced. We quietly left, tipping well, and letting her stew in the fear that she'd shot her business in the foot.
I'm just barely old enough to remember the time when Heart of Glass was a hit. To me, Blondie were always that band. It was only as I got older that I discovered that there was a much more interesting band behind the hits. Atomic, with it's Spaghetti Western Guitar, disco drums and typically haunting vocals show a band with much more going for it than you'd think.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Atom Eyes - Guided By Voices - Under the Bushes Under the Sky - 1996
Tobin Sprout's songs on the Guided by Voices albums that came out during the reign of the "classic" line-up are always a bit of an enigma. It seems inconceivable that an ego as outsized as Bob Pollard's could allow another songwriter, even a minor one, to have his moment in the spot light. Beyond that, Sprout's songs, while rarely bad (And this, along with Alien Lanes' "Little Whirl" is probably one of the two best), are generally pretty mundane affairs. Typically the fall into the niche of sub-REM mid-90's indie rock. Eschewing the arena rock gestures that always elevated GBV's lo fi days, Tobin's songs were...nice, and little more. And by and large they were interchangable, offering little sonic variation.
So again, the question is...how did they make it onto GBV albums that were already overflowing with tracks? I have no good answer...there is a temptation to say that Bob put them on the record to showcase how much they were inferior to his work...but that is hardly being fair to Uncle Bob. Also arguable is that Bob, always the coneisseur of the classic rock move, decided he needed a George Harrison to his Lennon/McCartney, a Spiral Stairs to his Malkmus...which isn't outside the realms of possiblility. Or perhaps Bob just liked Tobin's songs...we don't have an answer...instead, they just stand as interesting side alleys on albums already full of experiments, both succesful and less so.
So again, the question is...how did they make it onto GBV albums that were already overflowing with tracks? I have no good answer...there is a temptation to say that Bob put them on the record to showcase how much they were inferior to his work...but that is hardly being fair to Uncle Bob. Also arguable is that Bob, always the coneisseur of the classic rock move, decided he needed a George Harrison to his Lennon/McCartney, a Spiral Stairs to his Malkmus...which isn't outside the realms of possiblility. Or perhaps Bob just liked Tobin's songs...we don't have an answer...instead, they just stand as interesting side alleys on albums already full of experiments, both succesful and less so.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Atmosphere - Joy Division - Substance - 1995
Of all of my relatives, the one that I am probably most like is my maternal grandfather. I may have gotten my alcohol tolerance, blarney, and sense of humor from my biological fathers side, my intellect from my mother, and my professional sense from my (step)Dad...but my grandfather is the person I see myself in most.
Born in 1930, he was certainly raised with Depression era ethics. He was too young for WWII and his service was concluded before Korea. He worked most of his early adulthood as a shoe salesman before opening up his army surplus store in Kokomo, IN. He was 2 pack a day smoker until he had a heart attack at the alarmingly young age of 38...at which point he decided to go on mission to Puerto Rico to help build a church.
Always an incorrigible flirt and a man who loved to stir the pot, he was a son of a bitch in the best possible sense. I lived with him for a few years in high school due to some family difficulties and he was my first employer, putting me to work at the shop and at the gun shows he'd attend on weekends to sell his wares.
I went to go visit him this weekend for the 4th, as my family has recently had to put him in a home. He is wheel chairbound, and at nearly 80 has survived 6 heart attacks, many strokes and recently been diagnosed with bowel cancer. It's heart rending to see a man of such limitless spirit stuck in a place that he clearly sees as a waiting room for death...though it is encouraging to see that he has made many girlfriends among both the nurses and the other inhabitants.
I've survived 34 years without losing a family member...and for that I should be thankful, but it is never easy to watch someone you love fade away.
Was this an appropriate post for Joy Division...maybe? They are certainly a band for whom death (though not aging) is usually associated. The best I can say is that at least I gave tribute to my grandpa on a great song as oppossed to one of the filler tracks.
Born in 1930, he was certainly raised with Depression era ethics. He was too young for WWII and his service was concluded before Korea. He worked most of his early adulthood as a shoe salesman before opening up his army surplus store in Kokomo, IN. He was 2 pack a day smoker until he had a heart attack at the alarmingly young age of 38...at which point he decided to go on mission to Puerto Rico to help build a church.
Always an incorrigible flirt and a man who loved to stir the pot, he was a son of a bitch in the best possible sense. I lived with him for a few years in high school due to some family difficulties and he was my first employer, putting me to work at the shop and at the gun shows he'd attend on weekends to sell his wares.
I went to go visit him this weekend for the 4th, as my family has recently had to put him in a home. He is wheel chairbound, and at nearly 80 has survived 6 heart attacks, many strokes and recently been diagnosed with bowel cancer. It's heart rending to see a man of such limitless spirit stuck in a place that he clearly sees as a waiting room for death...though it is encouraging to see that he has made many girlfriends among both the nurses and the other inhabitants.
I've survived 34 years without losing a family member...and for that I should be thankful, but it is never easy to watch someone you love fade away.
Was this an appropriate post for Joy Division...maybe? They are certainly a band for whom death (though not aging) is usually associated. The best I can say is that at least I gave tribute to my grandpa on a great song as oppossed to one of the filler tracks.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Atlas - Battles - Mirrored - 2007
Not to ride in on the coat tails of Pitchfork too much, but this probably was the best song of 2007. The rest of the Battles album has it's charms, but this was the clear winner with it's absolutely propulsive drum beats, piston engine guitars and nonsense vocorder singing that somehow doesn't get annoying after 7 minutes.
As usual, it's always harder to write about a song I really like than one I totally hate. This song rocks, and it's great for driving in the summer or taking the subway home at night. Cheers!
As usual, it's always harder to write about a song I really like than one I totally hate. This song rocks, and it's great for driving in the summer or taking the subway home at night. Cheers!
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