At My Window Sad and Lonely - Billy Bragg and Wilco - Mermaid Avenue - 1998

Back in 1998, Wilco was relatively small potatoes when they were asked to feature with noted British punk/folkie Billy Bragg on an album of unrecorded Woody Guthrie songs. At the time the were the band led by the less respected member of the Uncle Tupelo. They had had a minor "Y'alternative" hit with Box Full of Letters and then faded into the background with a solid but low selling follow up and a third album that relied more on Beach Boys-esque pop than Hank Williams Sr.

But then with Mermaid Avenue, their rise to the thrown of Starbuck's Comp/Dad-Rock icons was on it's way. The Guthrie estate had a set of lyrics that Guthrie had written but never set music too...they hand picked Wilco and Bragg to make an album with these lyrics and the results were solidly succesful...take this song for instance.

At My Most Beautiful - REM - Up - 1998

Well, sorry again for a bit of a lengthy gap between entries, but I took a few couple of days off of work to make a little road trip down to DC and then I had a fair amount of catching up on both work and sleep when I returned.

So anyway, since I've sort of gotten the hang of this whole travel blog thing recently I'll probably be writing a bit about DC...but I actually have a few things to say about this song, so the DC stories can wait for the next entry.

In 1998 I was working night shifts at a hospital's computer help desk in Cincinnati. I worked completely by myself for most of the night, and unless a system was down I rarely got many calls. As such had plenty of time to work on projects, catch up on reading, listen to music, etc. And one of the things I was doing was starting an internet romance with a girl I had known for a few years. She was obsessive about REM and had seriously recommended this album to me.

Now I, like many people, had sort of assumed that Bill Berry's departure after New Adventures in Hi Fi meant the end of REM as a creative force...and by and large I was correct, however they still had one last good album in them (Unless they seriously surprise me in their middle aged incarnation). And that album was Up.

The departure of Berry left the band free to experiment a bit. Their tour with young upstarts Radiohead as openers had left them with a taste for a bit more unusual textures and much of the album shows this influence. At My Most Beautiful however is one of the few songs on the album that looks backwards...it is admittedly a band trying to sound like the Beach Boys and they do a stirling immitation. Michael Stipe has long admitted his boredom with the icons of classic rock, but in doing his band mates a "Favor" and doing this song in the Pet Sounds style actually allowed the song to open up and breathe rather than stagnating in imitation. The sleigh bells, the baritone horns, the perfect pitched harmonies all work to show the delicacy of the song in both lyrical content and structure. It's really a lovely song and makes me wish even further that they had simply hung up their hats after this album.

Artificial Light - Robert Pollard - Waved Out - 1998

We found exactly what we were looking for on Schonhauser Allee. Curry Wurst places in Berlin are about like Pizza places in NYC. They are usually just small, brightly lit diners, they usually have a somewhat shady looking dude behind the counter, and they all claim to be the best in the city.

For the uninitiated, Curry Wurst is not actually curry flavored sausage, but a German bratwurst with curry sauce poured all over the top of it and generally served with fries. We ordered ours (Complete with over sized beer) and made our way to the back.

One of the more interesting things we observed both in the city in general, and in this establishment as a whole, was the popularity and legality of Texas Hold-Em poker. The restaurant advertised that it was a poker establishment, but all this really meant was that you were allowed to play in there and that they would provide you with the chips. So behind us was a a table of 5-6 German dudes, eating curry wurst, drinking giant beers, smoking and playing poker. It was sort of awesome.

It was definitely one of those moments where I wished the US didn't have such a giant stick up it's ass...and it seems as we head deeper into our economic mess, more and more states are relaxing their gambling guidelines. Though I do occasionally enjoy some poker, I'm not even much of a gambler. Never had the money to do it with any seriousness. But I'm generally against any puritanical law, and that one fits the bill.

Anyway, we finished up our meal and headed around town. We didn't have much luck locating the bars that had been suggested to us, and it was rapidly approaching midnight on our last night in Berlin. We decided to just find the first serviceable bar and grab a beverage. We found a quiet place off the beaten path and headed in...

Pollard's second solo album was much more consistent than his first, but of course the trade off came in terms of peaks. Not In My Airforce has too many tracks and many of them bad, but a few of them are amazing. Waved Out has few bad tracks (though Showbiz Opera Walrus might be the worst song he's ever done...and he's done a lot of bad songs)...but it is solid. But on the flipside, only Subspace Biographies (and to a lesser degree Whiskey Ships and the title track) manage to generate much excitement. This track doesn't display any of the embarrassing Pollard ticks, but again, it doesn't do much to thrill either.

The Apologist - R.E.M. - Up - 1998

So anyway, we watch this Girltalk show after giving up on being down in the elbow fest that was the ground floor we decided to head up to the much more sedate second floor. The show wraps up and we head for the coat check...which is also on the second floor, so we get a relatively decent place in line.

Now, it was a cold night, and Girltalk is the kind of show that chicks dance at...so most people had worn heavy coats and then checked them into the coat check. The problem was, people show up in trickles...but they all want to leave at the same time. The coat check line quickly decended into chaos, and our place in line was of little importance.

Finally after easily 20 minutes of waiting, we make it to the front of the line. My lady friend had suggested that we give all five coat tickets to one of her friends, as she could lead with her cleavage. Seeing the wisdom of this plan, I turned over the tickets. However, when she collected the coats, she turned to me and said "They lost Anne's coat..."

So, I make my way up to the front to check out the situation, and at this point my temper was on edge. I talk to the floppy haired douchebag behind the counter and he tells me that he needs a description. So I say "It's a small woman's pea coat".

"Dude, I don't know what the hell a peacoat is."

Okay...now maybe I could have been more polite at this point, but I really was in no mood for this shit, so I responded with "It's the same fucking black boxy coat with the big anchor buttons that every fucking chick in New York City wears in the winter!"

At this point, Anne's friends pulled me away from the window, figuring the cleavage would do more good than my incohate rage. So they call Anne to come to the front to help identify it, but the problem is there is a bouncer in between her and the coat check window. And this tiny little prick decides that the only thing he can do in his futile effort at crowd control is to stop my tiny 108 pound girlfriend from claiming her lost coat.

"Sorry ma'am you are just going to have wait until everyone else clears out, I can't let you go up there."

It was at this moment that I basically went bat shit. He was considerably smaller than me, younger than me, and in over his head...so I just went in with both feet and started going off on the dude. Phrases that left my mouth included:
"Look, she's my girlfriend and she wants to stand up here so she can help sort out this mess, what exact problem do you think she's going to cause?"
"What are you going to do, escort me from the building? Try it."
"We paid you to watch our coats, and you incompetant fucks couldn't even handle that job right...I want her coat and I want it now."
"It's a Sunday night, I have to work tomorrow, I want to go home and get some sleep, and now because you all screwed up, I have to wait till this clusterfuck clears up to claim my girlfriend's coat. That's bullshit"

The floppy haired douchebag came out at this point and opinied (sadly, correctly) "this guy is a total asshole"

Finally they got their manager to come out, who actually spoke to me like a reasonable person and allowed Anne to find her coat. He even thanked me for being reasonable at the end of the night.

I suppose I could make a connection to The Apologist by saying something about oweing the staff of Terminal 5's coat check an apology, but frankly fuck those guys hard with both fists.

The song itself, is another decent track from REM's last decent album. Not my favorite on the album, but they've made far worse.

Another Planet - The Notwist - Shirk - 1998

Because I didn't travel much until I was in my mid to late twenties, I certainly had a lot of preconceived notions about what other countries would be like. I remember having a mindset (which many of my midwestern friends that still have never left the country seem to have adopted) that being abroad is a lot like being on another planet, but the truth of the matter is that it isn't that different. Sure, weather, topography, language, and culture might be somewhat different...but fundamental human nature does not change...niether about yourself, nor those you encounter.

This is why I find xenophobia so frustrating. The world is sometimes (or often) an indifferent place...but it's rarely as malicious as some would have you believe. But most people that I've met just want the same things I want. They want comfort and respect. They want entertainment and purpose. They want to be surrounded by those that love them and usually they don't wish strangers any ill. Perhaps, I am a bit deluded, living in a place where I'm constantly surrounded by tourists from all over the world...and perhaps I'm just spouting hippy nonesense of the "can't we all just get along" variety...but still, I don't find that...even in places I haven't had the best of times...that people are anything but decent.

But then I've never been to Afghanistan either.

I usually joke that The Notwist are just German Radiohead...but full credit to the Tuetonic gentlemen here...this album came out a full two years before Kid A and certainly shows all of the electronica meets melodic rock tendancies that the boys from Oxford would later make safe for the Luddite indie rock world.

Angry Angel - Imogen Heap - I, Megaphone - 1998

Man, chicks were really pissed in the nineties.

Imogen Heap back when she was still trying to be P.J. Harvey, rather than Bjork.

Amity - Elliot Smith - XO - 1998

"And Amity, as you know, means friendship..."

I just can't resist a Jaws joke especially in a tacky segue...the follow up to this post:

http://ocdipod.blogspot.com/2008/07/amber-canyon-magik-brightblack-morning.html

is here:

http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5gGxSXC2jWjGWou8lPsy7d2ZJKrNAD92638380

Anyway, Elliot Smith being a bit more rocky than usual...which if you know me, you know that I am for.

American Flag - Cat Power - Moon Pix - 1998

Now this is the Cat Power I used to love...batshit crazy, drunk off her ass, morose, barely coherent...music filled with odd ominous sounds and feedback rather than Memphis horn sections and a professional drummer.

I sit here enduring the longest Friday afternoon in human history while my girlfriend sits on the beach. The old Cat Power was right. Life is hell.

Along The Way - Bob Mould - The Last Dog and Pony Show - 1998

Sonically, this sounds like a left over from Mould's generally fantastic Workbook...but lyrically...Jesus Bob, rock's a lot more gay friendly now than it was in the mid-80's. We don't really need the preachy anthem about lack of understanding. I liked it better when your delimas were oblique and menacing rather than pointedly on the nose.

Aloha Spirit - Seam - The Pace Is Glacial - 1998

Somewhere around the summer of 1985 my Grandfather ran an ice cream bicycle franchise out of the back of his army surplus store in Kokomo, IN. During the summers, when I wasn't in school, I'd hang out at my grandfather's store, playing with the army surplus stuff, wishing I could shoot the guns, and looking for excuses to break into the giant freezers in the back room.

My Grandfather and I had a deal that I was allowed to eat any "rejects"...a surprising number of ice cream products came out broken that summer, but I only feel so bad about that now. My Grandparents still managed to be top sellers in the state and won a free carribean cruise out of it, which represents the only time my Grandmother was ever on a plane.

But what I think about most about that summer...when I think about it at all...is the lives of the young men who worked for my grandfather. Late high school or college age guys who spent their summers riding a bicycle with a freezer basket full of ice cream around the booming metropolis of Kokomo. In a day and age before Internet, without much video games, and in a town where office jobs weren't exactly plentiful...it doesn't seem like such a bad way to spend your summer. Occassionally, when the sun is out, it even sounds better than jockeying a desk in NYC. But then on the other hand, when their work days were over they had nothing to do but drive around the same city they'd biked around...whereas I get to go play in the city that never sleeps. It's a trade off.

Anyway...Seam rules.

All Worked Out - Semisonic - Feeling Strangely Fine - 1998

I'll be honest, while this isn't neccesarily my favorite song on this album, this album as a whole is one of my guilty pleasures. Semisonic will always be remembered as "That 'Closing Time' Band", but like a few of the band from the dying days of the Alternative Nation nonsense they were better than their one hit.

All The Same To Me - Golden Smog - Weird Tales - 1998

My roommate and I watched Die Hard II (Die Harder) last night...and I have to say that, even counting Live Free or Die Hard, this is easily the worst Die Hard movie. There are those that will say Die Hard with a Vengence, but personally, even if it's ludicrous, I still enjoy watching Willis and Sam Jackson driving around NYC yelling at each other. Frankly, I'd watch a movie of just that, even without the ass kicking.

But here are my reasons for voting Die Harder as the worst:
1) There is absolutely no character development in this film (okay, I know...no one watches Die Hard for the character development but still...) it's just a series of badly choreographed gun fights, McClane killing people in convuluted ways and snappy one-liners that are niether snappy nor one funny.
2) Reny Harlin. I have a long standing theory that the Dutch just shouldn't be allowed to direct films. Verhooven gets a pass for a few of his films, but then has also made a few that he should be flogged for. But Reny Fucking Harlin...Cutthroat Island, all I'm saying.
3) No one should ever be forced to see William Sadler naked...ever.
4) Sipowitz is in this film and all he does is yell.
5) The General (played by Italian Franco Nero) can't seem to decide if he is Russian or South American. This may be the director's fault though.
6) There are many ways that you can tell that this film is made in 1990...McClane's pager, the giant cell phones, smoking in the airport, the awe with which people regard the fax machine, but none is so aggregious as the casting of angular mid-thirties women in the minor roles. Granted, we've tipped the scale far too far in the other direction, if we made this movie today the Airport Girl, Stewardess, and the Junior Reporter would all be played by the female cast of Gossip Girl...but come on...even the airport customer service girl that hits on McClane is unattractive. Throw us a bone, you Dutch fuck.
7) Did I mention William Sadler was naked?
8) Fred Thompson has a major part in this film...about airline terrorism...and he negotiated with the terrorist...and that douchebag ran for president and then did absolutely nothing.

Anyway, this probably the least interesting/energetic song on an album I really love. One of Tweedy's cast offs from Wilco gets recycled with about as much enthusaism as that statement merits.

All Night Home - Sparklehorse - Good Morning, Spider -1998

Wow, so after an ill advised bender with my co-workers, I was dragging my ass into work this morning (worst part about an office drink up, if you call in sick the next day, everyone will know why) on the subway. At my second stop, an entire class of 4th grade girls got on the subway car. Now, needless to say this did not do my head any good...I realize that this makes me a terrible old crumudgeon, but I desperately wanted to tell all of these kids to "shut the fuck up". I mean seriously, couldn't they have waited until after peoples morning commutes to take whatever assinine field trip they were going on? In the mornings, most of us working slobs want as close to a quiet peaceful trip on the train, and the last thing we want is 30 chatty cathy's ruining my perfectly good hangover.

So this is Sparklehorse doing their usual "old-timey sounding song, fucked with in the studio" trick. Not bad, but they have better.

Airportman - R.E.M. - Up - 1998

As I've stated before, I have a complicated relationship with R.E.M. Among the consequences of this is the fact that I will defend Up as a halfway decent album. It was a dark time for the band. Bill Berry had just had his aneurysm scare and had left the band under the condition that the band would not quit, Stipe's growing friendship with Thom Yorke had convinced him that the band needed to be more experimental, and the novelty of the Spice Girls had blossomed into a full fledged teen-pop movement led by a crazy girl in plaid schoolgirl skirt.

Under these circumstances R.E.M. did their best to put out a solid album and mostly hit the target by being relatively modest and not shying away from being moody. This song however completely blows. Just a bunch of keyboard beeps without a distinctive melody to cling to...and worse yet, it's the album opener. Give the album a chance, just start at track 2.

The Agony of Laffitte - A Series of Sneaks - 1998

This is pretty much where the legend of Spoon begins, like the most delicate version of NIN's Broken EP, this is Spoon railing against their mistreatment by a major label. Of course, in hindsight it's pretty hard to feel bad for them. In the interim they signed with artist friendly Merge records, had each record grow in both commercial appeal and critical respect, have had their songs used in car commercials, movie trailers, and tv shows. Britt even got a cameo on Veronica Mars.

Still Ron Laffitte (the A&R rep railed about in this song) was clearly an asshole.

After the Last Laugh - Archers of Loaf - White Trash Heroes - 1998

A few words about Sake.
Sake is awesome.
That is all.

My buddy and I were talking yesterday about how White Trash Heroes is probably the Archers album that most resembles Bachman's later work with Crooked Fingers. The outro on this song, for instance, seems a pre-cursor to New Drink for the Old Drunk. Which is what I was last night. Because of the sake.

See, I brought it full circle.

Advance Cassette - Spoon - A Series of Sneaks - 1998

So, I gave new meaning to the term douchebaggery last night. In the span of one evening, I managed to crash a corporate party of a company I haven't worked for in almost a year, insult a pregnant woman, aggressively hit on an engaged woman in front of her fiance, not pay for a single drink, eat two plates of calamari, neither of which I ordered or payed for, bum two cigarettes and somehow came home with a fifth of JD in messenger bag...and on the plus side the calamari was quite tasty. Good times, good times.

Anyway, A Series of Sneaks is either the first Spoon album on which they sound like themselves, or the last one in which they were a traditional guitar band...depending on your point of view. I like that ten years later this song is already obsolete. I can see school children right now saying "what the hell is a cassette?" But I remember when you'd get that sneaky cassette copy of a bands new album before the official release...and I'd be pissed if I lost it too.