Kim Gordon has an essay collection called Is it My Body? out now, released the same month that her ex-husband Thurston Moore named the Alice Cooper track as one of his 38 favorite songs.
It's a weird song for sure, not as well-remembered as "School's Out" or "No More Mr. Nice Guy." But I like how accidentally weird it is. After two poorly-received albums, Alice aimed for hits on Love it to Death, hiring producer Bob Ezrin and narrowing down the psychedelia of his earlier work. Yet even when he's trying to write a hit, he gives every verse a different vocal melody and sounds like he's made up the chorus on the spot. If he had been weird on purpose (like "Welcome to My Nightmare") or written a successful pop song (like "Poison,") I doubt Kim Gordon would have named her book after it.
Showing posts with label sonic youth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sonic youth. Show all posts
Friday, January 31, 2014
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Our Bands Could Be Your Life
Jenny has never read Our Band Could Be Your Life.
Our Bands Could Be Your Life
Rather than make a generic Best of Our Band Could Be Your Life, I tried to sculpt something more Jenny-centric. She probably already has Zen Arcade and You're Living All Over Me, but maybe not Candy Apple Grey or Bug. I hate to boil the entire Butthole Surfers' discography down to one song, but I'm guessing she'd enjoy "Human Cannonball" more than "Sweat Loaf." For some bands, like Sonic Youth, I'm providing the standard intro tracks, but for the Replacements, whom Jenny loves as much as I do, I had to dig deep and find a rarity. I like how "Can't Hardly Wait" sounds without a horn section.
Happy birthday, Jenny. Maybe the next mix will have "The Shah Sleeps in Lee Harvey's Grave."
Our Bands Could Be Your Life
- Black Flag, "Nervous Breakdown"
- Black Flag, "Rise Above"
- Black Flag, "Gimme Gimme Gimme"
- Minutemen, "History Lesson - Part II"
- Minutemen, "This Ain't No Picnic"
- Mission of Burma, "That's When I Reach for My Revolver"
- Mission of Burma, "Academy Fight Song"
- Minor Threat, "Straight Edge"
- Minor Threat, "Minor Threat"
- Hüsker Dü, "Don't Want to Know if You are Lonely"
- The Replacements, "Can't Hardly Wait" (Tim Version)
- Sonic Youth, "Teen Age Riot"
- Sonic Youth, "100%"
- Sonic Youth, "Kool Thing"
- Butthole Surfers, "Human Cannonball"
- Big Black, "Kerosene"
- Dinosaur Jr., "Freak Scene"
- Dinosaur Jr., "Start Choppin'"
- Dinosaur Jr., "Feel the Pain"
- Fugazi, "Merchandise"
- Fugazi, "Repeater"
- Mudhoney, "Touch Me I'm Sick"
- Mudhoney, "You Got it (Keep it out of My Face)"
- Beat Happening, "Indian Summer"
Rather than make a generic Best of Our Band Could Be Your Life, I tried to sculpt something more Jenny-centric. She probably already has Zen Arcade and You're Living All Over Me, but maybe not Candy Apple Grey or Bug. I hate to boil the entire Butthole Surfers' discography down to one song, but I'm guessing she'd enjoy "Human Cannonball" more than "Sweat Loaf." For some bands, like Sonic Youth, I'm providing the standard intro tracks, but for the Replacements, whom Jenny loves as much as I do, I had to dig deep and find a rarity. I like how "Can't Hardly Wait" sounds without a horn section.
Happy birthday, Jenny. Maybe the next mix will have "The Shah Sleeps in Lee Harvey's Grave."
Monday, June 3, 2013
Blame it on the Rain
Named for a song which doesn't appear anywhere near this mix.
I spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to pick between Led Zeppelin's "The Rain Song," "When the Levee Breaks" and "Fool in the Rain," and ended up ditching all of them when I realized I already had three other eight-minute songs. Maybe they'll get on the next one, but with the recipient in mind I gave priority to Neil Young, The Temptations and Fleetwood Mac. Still, I couldn't resist up filling the metal quota with prime Slayer and Queensrÿche. There's really no use in putting anything next to "Raining Blood," to the point where I'm worried that even the awesome "Another Rainy Night" and the tender "Rainy Night in Soho" have been reduced to palate-cleansers.
Finally, Tom Waits has apparently written a song about everything, having now appeared on my theme mixes for rain, cars, New York, L.A., moving, trains, phones, cats, dogs and clothes. "Rains on Me" is from the original Free the West Memphis 3 album.
- Grateful Dead, "Box of Rain"
- Fleetwood Mac, "Dreams"
- Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, "Tupelo"
- Willie Nelson, "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain"
- Creedence Clearwater Revival, "Have You Ever Seen the Rain?"
- The Beatles, "Rain"
- The Temptations, "I Wish it Would Rain"
- Tom Waits, "Rains on Me"
- Guns N' Roses, "November Rain"
- Morphine, "You Look Like Rain"
- Neil Young, "See the Sky About to Rain"
- Sonic Youth, "Rain on Tin"
- Queensrÿche, "Another Rainy Night (Without You)"
- Slayer, "Raining Blood"
- The Pogues, "Rainy Night in Soho"
- Prince & The Revolution, "Purple Rain"
I spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to pick between Led Zeppelin's "The Rain Song," "When the Levee Breaks" and "Fool in the Rain," and ended up ditching all of them when I realized I already had three other eight-minute songs. Maybe they'll get on the next one, but with the recipient in mind I gave priority to Neil Young, The Temptations and Fleetwood Mac. Still, I couldn't resist up filling the metal quota with prime Slayer and Queensrÿche. There's really no use in putting anything next to "Raining Blood," to the point where I'm worried that even the awesome "Another Rainy Night" and the tender "Rainy Night in Soho" have been reduced to palate-cleansers.
Finally, Tom Waits has apparently written a song about everything, having now appeared on my theme mixes for rain, cars, New York, L.A., moving, trains, phones, cats, dogs and clothes. "Rains on Me" is from the original Free the West Memphis 3 album.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Five Great Records that Robert Christgau Trashed
Earlier this week I met Robert Christgau, the "Dean of American Rock Critics." He could not have been friendlier. I did not expect the Pazz & Jop founder (and the guy who once wished death on Paul McCartney instead of John Lennon) to make time for me, but I learned that his demeanor is worthy of his talent.
Christgau's reviews were, for better and worse, a harbinger for Twitter. He specializes in short, sharp remarks that say more about how music feels than how it sounds. Any serious music writer has spent hours with his Consumer Guide books or web site, which are always entertaining and often infuriating. Whatever part of his brain made him one of America's top journalists did not help him at all when it came to appreciating metal.
"I admire metal's integrity, brutality, and obsessiveness, but I can't stand its delusions of grandeur," he wrote in one of his rare positive reviews, for Motörhead's Orgasmatron. He's come to terms somewhat, more recently telling Salon, "I don’t think metal’s as bad as I hear it as being." But for all his virtues, the Dean is not to be trusted when it comes to the headbanger's art. In some ways, he's metal's perfect foil--an artistic, intellectual type who prefers Sonic Youth in his haughty publications. In honor of Christgau's game-changing style and questionable taste, let's give his writing a taste of his own acerbic medicine.
1. Black Sabbath, Paranoid
They do take heavy to undreamt-of extremes, and I suppose I could enjoy them as camp, like a horror movie--the title cut is definitely screamworthy. After all, their audience can't take that Lucifer bit seriously, right? Well, depends on what you mean by serious. Personally, I've always suspected that horror movies catharsized stuff I was too rational to care about in the first place.
Calling metal on its campiness is like making fun of your friends. If you're a proven comrade and appreciator, it's fine, but if it comes with a "C-" you're asking for a fight. In fairness, metal does have audience that's misguided enough to believe in Satan, and they're also into banning books.
2. Van Halen, Van Halen
For some reason Warners wants us to know that this is the biggest bar band in the San Fernando Valley. This doesn't mean much--all new bands are bar bands, unless they're Boston. The term becomes honorific when the music belongs in a bar. This music belongs on an aircraft carrier.
On an aircraft carrier? What does that even mean? Christgau's prose is often brilliant, but here he's either too smart for me or has no idea what he's talking about.
3. AC/DC, Back in Black
"Shoot to Thrill," "Given [sic] the Dog a Bone," and "Let Me Put My Love Into You" all concern the unimaginative sexual acts you'd imagine, and "What Do You Do for Money Honey" has a more limited set of answers than the average secretary would prefer. My sister's glad they don't write fantasy and science fiction, and if you're female you're free to share her relief. Brothers are more deeply implicated in these matters.
The number one pratfall of music critics is that they respond to lyrics more than music. Personally, I think Back in Black is full of gems ("She told me to come but I was already there,") but any appreciation of AC/DC starts with the riffs. What Brian Johnson sings
about doesn't matter as much as what you can sing along to.
4. Metallica, Master of Puppets
(T)he revolutionary heroes I envisage aren't male chauvinists too inexperienced to know better; they don't have hair like Samson and pecs like Arnold Schwarzenegger. That's the image Metallica calls up, and I'm no more likely to invoke their strength of my own free will than I am The 1812 Overture's.
Confirmation that everyone assumes that the music they detest is enjoyed by their enemies from high school.
5. Nine Inch Nails, The Downward Spiral
Musically, Hieronymus Bosch as postindustrial atheist; lyrically, Transformers as kiddie porn.
Industrial Bosch actually sounds kind of great, though I have no idea where the second part came from. Maybe he meant to write "transformers, kids and porn," and turned it off before he got to "Hurt."
Christgau's reviews were, for better and worse, a harbinger for Twitter. He specializes in short, sharp remarks that say more about how music feels than how it sounds. Any serious music writer has spent hours with his Consumer Guide books or web site, which are always entertaining and often infuriating. Whatever part of his brain made him one of America's top journalists did not help him at all when it came to appreciating metal.
"I admire metal's integrity, brutality, and obsessiveness, but I can't stand its delusions of grandeur," he wrote in one of his rare positive reviews, for Motörhead's Orgasmatron. He's come to terms somewhat, more recently telling Salon, "I don’t think metal’s as bad as I hear it as being." But for all his virtues, the Dean is not to be trusted when it comes to the headbanger's art. In some ways, he's metal's perfect foil--an artistic, intellectual type who prefers Sonic Youth in his haughty publications. In honor of Christgau's game-changing style and questionable taste, let's give his writing a taste of his own acerbic medicine.
1. Black Sabbath, Paranoid
They do take heavy to undreamt-of extremes, and I suppose I could enjoy them as camp, like a horror movie--the title cut is definitely screamworthy. After all, their audience can't take that Lucifer bit seriously, right? Well, depends on what you mean by serious. Personally, I've always suspected that horror movies catharsized stuff I was too rational to care about in the first place.
Calling metal on its campiness is like making fun of your friends. If you're a proven comrade and appreciator, it's fine, but if it comes with a "C-" you're asking for a fight. In fairness, metal does have audience that's misguided enough to believe in Satan, and they're also into banning books.
For some reason Warners wants us to know that this is the biggest bar band in the San Fernando Valley. This doesn't mean much--all new bands are bar bands, unless they're Boston. The term becomes honorific when the music belongs in a bar. This music belongs on an aircraft carrier.
On an aircraft carrier? What does that even mean? Christgau's prose is often brilliant, but here he's either too smart for me or has no idea what he's talking about.
"Shoot to Thrill," "Given [sic] the Dog a Bone," and "Let Me Put My Love Into You" all concern the unimaginative sexual acts you'd imagine, and "What Do You Do for Money Honey" has a more limited set of answers than the average secretary would prefer. My sister's glad they don't write fantasy and science fiction, and if you're female you're free to share her relief. Brothers are more deeply implicated in these matters.
The number one pratfall of music critics is that they respond to lyrics more than music. Personally, I think Back in Black is full of gems ("She told me to come but I was already there,") but any appreciation of AC/DC starts with the riffs. What Brian Johnson sings
about doesn't matter as much as what you can sing along to.
(T)he revolutionary heroes I envisage aren't male chauvinists too inexperienced to know better; they don't have hair like Samson and pecs like Arnold Schwarzenegger. That's the image Metallica calls up, and I'm no more likely to invoke their strength of my own free will than I am The 1812 Overture's.
Confirmation that everyone assumes that the music they detest is enjoyed by their enemies from high school.
Musically, Hieronymus Bosch as postindustrial atheist; lyrically, Transformers as kiddie porn.
Industrial Bosch actually sounds kind of great, though I have no idea where the second part came from. Maybe he meant to write "transformers, kids and porn," and turned it off before he got to "Hurt."
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