Okay, I'll hold my hand up. I didn't quite make it 52 consecutive weeks of music. In my defense, I had a major illness, and it was quite difficult to get back in the habit of writing. I'm planning to resume posts, but probably not weekly.
On a side note, here's a very partial list of what I've been listening to a lot lately:
There are some albums that transcend time and space. Bat Out of Hell is one of those albums.
The album came out in 1977, the year after I was born. It is a heavy rock opera filled with love, sex, and heartache. The lyrics and the anthemic crescendos of the instruments bring the listener into the songwriter's world. You will experience spoken word poetry, and powerful guitar riffs, and Meat Loaf singing at all levels of his amazing range.
My favorite song is by far "Paradise by the Dashboard Light." It's all about teens and sex. In the cloistered world of my churchy upbringing, this was essentially audio erotica. Imagine hearing this at 12 or 13 and not being turned on. Of course, by the time I was hearing it, the album was some 10 or 12 years old, and the world had changed. Sex had become taboo, and this song celebrated it, to the point of flaunting.
This was one of the first CDs that I bought, and then at 16, the long awaited sequel came out, featuring "I Would Do Anything for Love (but I Won't Do That.)" Suddenly, everyone was into Meat Loaf all over again, but in the finicky world of 1990s radio, the long song was chopped up to fit into time slots and made into some horrible anemic version of its former self.
I think that's why I started going back to CDs only for my music. The radio was manipulative and sanitized, but the albums on CD in the dozens of plastic jewel cases strewn all over my back seat were uncut and vivid.
Of course, Bat Out of Hell is not without its detractors. Jim Steinman actually wrote the songs, and is barely ever given credit. Of course, he still gets the last laugh as he earns a good many royalties off Meat Loaf, and the anthems he wrote for other artists: "Making Love Out of Nothing at All" by Air Supply, "Total Eclipse of the Heart," by Bonnie Tyler, and "It's All Coming Back to Me Now," by Celine Dion, just to name a few.
If you've never heard Bat Out of Hell, I urge you to go out and get it.
Macy Gray is someone I see as a very misunderstood and under-appreciated talent. I picked up a used copy of The Id on a lark at the record store a few years ago, a couple years after it was already out. I heard "Sexual Revolution" in a movie and this CD had it on it, so I bought it.
As fortune would have it, The Id turned out to be one of my all time favorite CDs. It's chock full of emotion, flirtation, betrayal, frivolity, and fantastic rhythm and blues.
You... tell me that you love me If it's true, why am I running from ya and Who are these bitches on my answering machine? --from the song "Boo"
Absolutely fantastic.
I would characterize this album as a kind of R&B / Pop Fusion kind of sound. It's absolutely one of the most entertaining collections of songs that are out there. You should definitely pick it up.
This has been a very long couple of weeks, so suffice it to say I am behind on the music project.
Since I have been in a foul mood, I decided to go back to the basics of my music. That is, the Indigo Girls. Swamp Ophelia was the first encounter I had with the Indigo Girls. A friend in college had this on cassette and I freaked out. It was so much more than the crappy pop music of autumn 1995, and much more compelling to me than anything I had ever heard before. It was right when I was coming out, so this album got me through lots.
My favorite track on this album is "Language or the Kiss." It was definitely my life, or rather, the quandary I was faced with at the time.
There was a table set for six and five were there. I stood outside and kept my eyes upon that empty chair.
I was in a family of six and I feared most that my coming out would alienate me from my family, like in the song.
Over the years, the Indigo Girls poetry spoke to me in many other ways. I moved out on my own, then moved back home with my parents. Then finally at 24, I bought my own home and finally branched out for good, no longer the stunted sapling trapped in an suburban soil, but a thriving young tree. Forgive the purple prose, but it always makes me misty talking about the Indigo Girls.
The rest of the Swamp Ophelia is full of amazing songs about love, triumph, loss, mourning, and the strength of love and friendships. I am at a loss for words to describe it better. But I hope I've piqued your curiosity enough to check it out for yourself.
To give you some more inspiration, check out the "Power of Two" video from the Indigo Girls VEVO channel on YouTube. It's a great song.
There's a bit of an advisory note on this week's post. I normally like to focus on one of an artist's albums, but this is a sticky wicket, as they say.
Nina Simone burst into my consciousness through the movie Point of No Return starring Bridgette Fonda. The desperate tones of the lead character are accompanied by equally desperate and poignant Nina Simone songs. As much as anything else, I always got the feeling that this movie wanted you to go out and by a Nina Simone record. So I did.
I found a compilation CD, so I bought it (the cover image of the disc I have appears above). This compilation was an actual CD, but when I put it into my iTunes years ago, it came up as the album "Bad Habits." I usually trust Gracenote or CDDB or whatever gives iTunes its data, but something was definitely off about this
I learned later on that Nina Simone had an incredibly difficult life. Born in the US, she was a gifted musician, forced into subserviance and denied educational opportunities because of her skin color. Just before the breakthroughs of the 1960s Civil Rights movement, Nina packed off for Europe and lived much of her life as an outspoken Expatriate. Really, if anyone blames her, they should have their heads examined.
Because of the legal battles over her albums, there are many issues and reissues. Still, I wanted to talk about her music as soon as possible, because it's still Black History Month, and I've sort of largely ignored any black artists so far, much to my detriment.
I view Nina as more of an aggressive protest singer. She was popular in the US during her lifetime (died in 2003), but she shunned the music business and chose to use her music to spread the message instead of becoming a superstar she was so obviously born to be.
Her romantic tunes are almost overshadowed by her brash and plaintive songs like "Mississippi Goddamn," but the tenderness in "Love Me or Leave Me," and "My Baby Just Cares for Me" give a glimpse of just how amazingly powerful and deep she really was. She could have become rich and powerful and popular, but she took the high road and changed the world.
Another note: The song "Young Gifted and Black" does not appear on my album, but it's too good not to talk about, so I am including it blow, along with a couple other songs that make me love her all the more.
Unlike previous artists, I came to T. Rex later in life. In fact, I was completely unfamiliar with them until just a few years ago when I saw the movies The Tripand Billy Elliot. Both featured T. Rex anthems from Electric Warrior.
"Bang a Gong (Get It On)" and "Cosmic Dancer" were the songs in the respective films. The more I learned about T. Rex, the more I was fascinated. I bought the album on iTunes only years later after seeing Breakfast on Pluto, which again prominently featured "Cosmic Dancer."
The album has other standouts like "Planet Queen," "Mambo Sun" and more. To me, Electric Warrior is one of my favorite albums to listen to. But I only was a fan of the music, and never got that much into the band or Marc Bolan
I only recently became aware of another album, The Slider just this weekend when I strolled into my local record store. (Yes, they do still exist, antiquarian though they may be.) The record store had a display of new vinyl. Apparently, 15 years ago when I started collecting records in earnest after high school, I didn't know I was starting a trend. Today new and reissued albums are coming out on vinyl and come with a free MP3 download link on the Internet. Technology is wonderful.
While the Slider is good, Electric Warrior is still tops in its ethereal feel and aural magnetism. Still, as I continue with this project, you may get a review of the Slider later on. Both are really good.
Sadly, Marc Bolan died shortly before his 30th birthday in a car crash (possibly the biggest disincentive to buy a Mini ever). Of course, with the tragic early death, he's often compared to Jim Morrison of the Doors. I adored the Doors, and still do, but the musical sounds are light years apart. The Doors are more spoken word poetry, while T. Rex is still much more commercial. But the glam/punk mix packs a wallop to the Doors primal energy.
The lesson I've learned from T. Rex and Electric Warrior is that there is a cornucopia of music that you may never have heard of. I recently caught flak on facebook for stating my dislike of Arcade Fire. But while I stand by that opinion, and I still haven't heard any of their songs I particularly care for, I am reminded by experience with T. Rex is that you shouldn't ever stop listening to music. That's kind of the point of this whole blog project. Keep your ears and mind open to new experiences and possibilities and you may discover some fantastic music you never knew existed.
The 1960s had a Canadian chanteuse who captivated a generation. Her name was Joni Mitchell. The 1990s had her successor, Alanis Morissette. Alanis had a meteoric rise with Jagged Little Pill. I had loved Jagged Little Pill because it helped me deal with a lot of emotional shit, being that it came out the year I graduated high school. The sophomore effort, Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie came out in 1998 after a couple of years of rebuilding and was a commercial and critical flop.
After a long musical drought, Alanis returned in 2002 with Under Rug Swept. The melodies on Under Rug Sweptseemed a bit derivative of Jagged Little Pill, but the lyrics seemed just as edgy and catchy. I loved the whole album immediately. I was again working through some major things, like just buying a house, what to do about school, and trying to find a boyfriend. I wasn't even sure I wanted to go through all the pain of a relationship, but then I heard "Flinch."
"Flinch" made me a lot more appreciative of my previous experiences. "Soon I'll grow up and I won't even flinch at your name..." To me, truer words had never been spoken. I was so short-sighted about love and emotion. I needed to hear those words to realize that there's plenty of time to get the hell over someone.
The rest of Under Rug Swept was rhapsodic. I started to like myself a lot more. Today I still love listening to these songs, probably as much as the Jagged Little Pill megahits.
Alanis probably did more for distressed young gay men than any therapist. I really adore her to this day. I've been sort of lukewarm on her other albums, but to me, the Jagged Little Pill ripped me up, but Under Rug Swept healed me.
I first encountered Guster in the late 90s when I returned to college after a brief hiatus in retail. Lost and Gone Forever was some of the most genius music I had heard in a long time. The 1990s were extremely wanting in terms of commercial music, but if you did a little digging, you could find bands like Guster, Barenaked Ladies, and Indigo Girls.
I do not have the least bit of hesitation grouping Guster in with the other two stellar Indie Rock talents. I actually wrote a glowing review of Guster's Lost and Gone Forever for a communications class in college, and I got an A.
Guster as a band has fairly common impetus, college friends making it big and all that, but their lyrics and musicianship are what keep me coming back for more. Guster was very big on the Internet. They became very astute at connecting with fans from the very earliest days of the online music gambit. They became a band that broke through the bland bandwitdh of pop with some indie-folk rock songs with heart.
I have to be honest, that I often am lost when I look for new music, but I actually found out that Guster had a new album through an ad on facebook. (Yes, I was Zuckerburged.) I clicked through and downloaded the free file "Bad Bad World," and completely dug it, so I splurged on the full ablum, Easy Wonderful on iTunes later that same day.
I could hardly stop listening to it after I bought it. It had been months since I had bought anything new, and this album was really good. Though the band doesn't really discuss the meaning behind its lyrics, I get the impression that some of these songs are a social critique. Consumerism, Politics, Religion. They all have some sort of thing to say about all of the big topics.
The album is actually playing as I write this, and I keep slapping my forehead, "Oh gosh, that's what they're talking about."
I highly recommend this album if you like to be intellectually stimulated by your music. And if not, the songs are still catchy and good on a superficial level.
[Reader Advisory: This post contains explicit and exquisite lyrics.]
"Big trouble in little Mangina..." from the song "Billionaire" by Peaches
I first learned about Peaches several years ago. Of course I heard "Boys Wanna Be Her" in the movie Whip It, but I was a fan even before that.
A couple of years ago, I came across a fan video on YouTube of "Slippery Dick" where the song plays over a video montage of Divine, the John Waters drag superstar. (See video below.)
As far as I know, this is just a fan video, but since I've always loved Divine, the song stuck with me. There are tons of videos on YouTube and I've included a couple more at the end of the post.
I don't buy music as much as I used to, mainly because I am drowning in CDs and I don't want to put much more stuff on my computer, for fear it will crash. But for my birthday and Christmas gifts in 2009, I got some iTunes gift cards, and one thing that was for sure on my list was "Slippery Dick."
I listened to some more Peaches tracks from the album, Impeach My Bush, but I wasn't thrilled. "Slippery Dick" was it for me for the time being. Yet later I came back to iTunes for more and wound up buying the more current album I Feel Cream.
I Feel Cream has some great rhythms, and the sound is much more eclectic. If there's one thing that can truly describe my taste in music, it's eclectic, so I bought the album. It resides on my iPod, there for when my mood is down and I need a little subversive electroclash pop to perk me up. It's my favorite album to listen to while I work out.
Like the art of Robert Mapplethorpe, Peaches music and videos are not everyone's cup of tea. But the way Peaches explores themes like gender identity, body image and sexuality is utterly fascinating to me. In an age of vapid pop stars like Katy Perry and Britney Spears, I'm glad we have Peaches.
On a side note, I was shocked however when I heard "Talk to Me" on the Muzak at work. They finally changed the channels up after the holidays this year. I get to hear Peaches, Pink, and even the Scissor Sisters. It doesn't ruin I Feel Cream for me yet. In fact, I would say that it might get more people aware of Peaches shear genius as a lyricist and performer.
I am not much of an expert on punk rock, but I know great music when I hear it. From the angry stacatto strumming of the title track that opens the album to the plaintive harmonica that trails off the ending, London Calling is a great album.
As the youngest of four kids, my musical tastes were somewhat patterned after my older siblings, though largely my oldest sister. She opened me up to the throaty ballads of Neil Diamond's Hot August Night and the shear poetry of Simon & Garfunkel's Concert in Central Park, but I always wanted more.
The Indiana suburbs of the early 1980s were not really a welcoming place for the strange world and sounds of punk. The most risque things got around our house was when my sister bought Prince records, or years later when I bought some Prince CDs. There wasn't really room in this tepid tableau for the social commentary of British punk. My recollection was that it seemed to all be written off as dirty because of bands with names like the Sex Pistols were too controversial. I remember the fight over radios playing George Michael's "I Want Your Sex" which they had to dub over with "I Want Your Love." Even in 2011, censorship reigns supreme, with CeeLo Green's "Forget You" instead of the original "Fuck You."
But the Clash sneaked into my world in barely perceptible ways. I remember the songs "Rock the Casbah" and "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" from the original airings on the radio. They sort of faded into the cacophony of my musical memory, but somehow they would germinate later in life, eventually growing into a deep appreciation for the band's fluid and adaptable aesthetic.
Sometime in the late 1990s, I heard the song "Lost in the Supermarket" on a local alternative radio station and fell in love with its cockeyed view of crass consumerism. I would go on to immerse myself in learning more about the band. Considering "Lost in the Supermarket" was released in 1979, its applicability to the late 1990s was eerily prescient, if not just downright creepy.
So I bought the London Calling CD and love to give it a listen every now and then. The album is ecclectic in its sounds. See the aforementioned electric guitar and harmonica. But it's almost depressing to listen to today, with the context of the interceding 30 years. The prophets of punk decried the future and we didn't listen. That is to say, "Lost in the Supermarket" could pretty much be taken as a prophecy about the 2008 Market Crash.
But then, if you listen to the rest of the album, you can get lost in its other messages, so to speak. I think it's pretty powerful prose and poetry. It's almost gleeful with subversion.
If you get a chance, listen to the whole album and then try to imagine if any artist today could foretell the future so eloquently. Of course, hindsight is always perfect. Foresight is ambiguous. I guess just get up and dance.
[Author's Note: I've been a bit under the weather, and the weather's been lousy. I apologize for the tardiness of this post.]
This may sound strange coming from a gay man, but I love Barenaked Ladies. Of course, I mean the musical group. I know, it's a terrible joke. I came to them quite by accident in the mid-1990s, along with some of my other favorite music. Their song "What a Good Boy" appeared in the movie Stonewall, which was one of the first gay movies I ever saw. (As a matter of digression, I first saw Rocky Horror Picture Show, Priscilla Queen of the Desert, Jeffrey, and then Stonewall.)
"What a Good Boy" is a lovely ballad that deals with forbidden love, though not explicitly gay. Still the song was a perfect fit for the end credits of the film, and I wanted to hear it more. This was in the early days of the Internet kids, so I actually combed used record stores looking for the Barenaked Ladies. While visiting my sister in Tennessee, I found the Stonewall soundtrack CD in a used record shop and bought it. It was filled with classic tunes by 1960s girl groups, and then it also had "What a Good Boy." I felt satisfied for a few weeks, but kept up my search. I eventually found the current album Born on a Pirate Ship at Target, where I worked at the time. It was one of those goofy multimedia CDs that had music and flash and quicktime. It was a good album, but it just wasn't hitting the spot for me.
I eventually found Gordon at Best Buy and bought it. I loved it. The funky beats mixed with harmonious tones and notes was the perfect thing to help me transcend my working class existence, and the fact that I had to move back in with my parents.
I went on to share the Barenaked Ladies with my best friend, my sisters, my first and second boyfriends, and just about everyone. I think I created somewhat of a cult following among my fellow Targeteers.
I almost consider the boys in the Barenaked Ladies my first real boyfriend, as I bonded with them through their music before I dated anybody. I actually had to buy the CD twice because I left it at a boyfriend's house or something. But I definitely didn't mind paying them royalties again. To this day, Gordon makes me feel good. He was the best boyfriend I had, before my current one of course.
Of course, I would be remiss if I didn't mention the eventual departure of Steven Page, one of the two lead vocalists for Barenaked Ladies. I don't know much about it, because over the years, my fandom has waned. I still have all of their major albums since Gordon, and there may be another one that strikes me later in the year. Until then, you'll have to explore them for yourself.
I had a brief flirtation with Country music during its 1990s heyday. This was the era of Garth Brooks, Reba McEntire, and a slew of other superstars. I adored Garth's everything and Reba's glamour and charm, but I absolutely loved everything about Mary Chapin Carpenter.
Her lyrics in her 90s "commercial" hits ranged from boisterous to scolding, running the full gamut of human emotions. I loved "Shut Up and Kiss Me" and "I Feel Lucky." Then she walloped me with "He Thinks He'll Keep Her," and "I Take My Chances."
This album, though it is a compilation, is a good snapshot of her brilliant career. Her next album, Time*Sex*Love* may be a subsequent entry, but this was the first album of hers that I bought, so I wanted to devote some time to it first. All of her major early hits are here, and there are songs I never knew I'd love, like "Stones in the Road," which is actually the title track from one of her older albums.
Though I usually disdain live performances of songs because they just seem so gimmicky, these performances are heartfelt and endearing. "I Take My Chances" is more poignant in this live version, as are many of the other tracks.
I admire her so much as a songwriter and performer. Not many country stars can pull off ballads written by John Lennon and Mick Jagger, but she totally does. In my imagination, she grew up listening to The Beatles, Joni Mitchell, and the Stones, then figured out how to interpret that music in her own life, with her own themes. She's truly gifted, and she's very willing to share her musical gifts with you, the listener.
Do yourself a favor and listen to this album again. If you haven't heard it, or if you already have the songs on other CDs, get this album for the new versions of the older songs. It's transformative, entertaining and endearing. You'll feel lucky to be hearing her music all over again.
It's the first week of 2011 and my friend Katie inspired me to resolve for a blog per week.
The idea sprang to life in my mind late last night while watching Mary Tyler Moore on Hulu. MTM is Katie's favorite television program, and it's not hard to see why. It's wonderful. It's the originator of all modern sitcoms. But I digress. I only wanted to throw in my own plug about how great the show is. Go to Hulu and watch a couple of episodes and you will be hooked as I am.
So my idea was to talk about 52 albums that mean something to me. After being bombarded by all those e-mail surveys, then later facebook surveys, about my favorite things, I figured it would be better to go into some depth on blog posts. I won't be defending my choices, in fact, I welcome readers to comment. I just want to share what music holds a place in my heart and try to explain why. I am kicking it off with a post immediately after this one.
Here's to a great 2011 filled with good music. Happy New Year.
The skies are charcoal gray. It's a dreary downtown day. But. At the end of my 30 foot leash. My little friend, Quiche.
Thus began one of my favorite songs by the B-52s, "Quiche Lorraine." It's a classic narrative about a boy and his dog, but with a super queer twist. Fred Schneider is singing about his beloved poodle, Quiche Lorraine. "Sunglasses and a bonnet, and designer jeans with appliques on 'em." My adolescent mind was blown. I was totally enthralled with this fictional bitch, just from the lyrical description.
The song is track 7 on the CD version I have of the album Wild Planet.
I always have great luck with the number 7 tracks of albums, but we'll leave numerology out of this for now. The song is the ultimate high camp showpiece of an album filled with vintage high camp showpieces.
In "Devil in my Car," Fred can't get the Devil out of his car because as Kate Pierson and Cindy Wilson sing in the background vocals "[The Devil's] got his cloven hoof on the clu--hutch."
In "Strobelight," Fred and the ladies extol the virtues of sex under a strobelight.
"Dirty Back Road" is all about, well let's just let your imagination flow.
All of these tracks were mind blowing to my exurban repressed homosexual adolescent ears. I loved dancing to them, or I'd just sit in my room and count the days until I would die. The B-52s made my existence much more tolerable, and I eventually realized that I too could make it out. Hell, I could carry a tune better than Fred Scheider. Though realistically I knew I probably would never be in a band, I was encouraged not to always do what was expected of me.
I finally stopped living in my own "Private Idaho," and now I love my life. Thanks in part to the sounds from a distant Wild Planet.
