Jerry Dammers wrote "Nelson Mandela" in hopes of getting people interested in the imprisoned anti-apartheid leader. But it was actually Nelson Mandela who got me interested in The Specials.
I didn't know much about ska that predated The Mighty Mighty Bosstones when I read Nick Hornby's music nerd novel High Fidelity. The protagonist mentioned getting an excellent response to playing "Nelson Mandela" at a party, and being interested in both Nelson Mandela--my cool older cousin had insisted that I read Long Walk to Freedom--and in ways that music could get people to like me more, I checked out The Specials' The Singles Collection at my favorite used record store. I heard the song that Sublime had stolen without credit ("A Message to You, Rudy,") the one that Bob Dylan wrote ("Maggie's Farm") and the one that occasionally appeared in crime movies ("Ghost Town.") It all came into place for me.
Even with its cheerful horns and skanking bounce, plus Americans' history of misinterpreting protest songs ("Fortunate Son," "Born in the U.S.A.," "Rockin' in the Free World,") it's hard to imagine anyone missing the message in that three word chorus. Rather than preach to the activists who were already counting on The Clash to alert them to their next cause, The Specials found the kids on the dance floor and got them to sing about Nelson Mandela. Who knows how many of them did anything about it, but I like how The Specials made activism look cool and sound fun. I'd hate to think of how many people are hesitant to get active for fear of working on a team of Jello Biafras.
A few decades after Mandela's release, The Specials sound a little dated. No one will play this song to at a rally to free anyone other than Nelson Mandela, and with ska now in its nth wave and a generation of Ras Trents inhabiting it, I'm rarely inspired to revisit The Singles Collection. But when I do, it sounds more politically blunt than anything by Bob Marley or Bruce Springsteen.
Showing posts with label sublime. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sublime. Show all posts
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Saturday, June 2, 2012
The Three Worst Nu Metal Reinventions
Much has been made of how hair metal bands tried to jump the grunge bandwagon after Nevermind made them all feel as silly as they looked. There was something sad about seeing Warrant and Skid Row struggle to distance themselves from their past and peers, begging audiences and label execs for their attention, but also something fascinating. Watching Bret Michaels drool his way through Sublime's "What I Got" in 2010 may not be anyone's idea of fun, but it's more memorable than the Unskinny Bop.
Nu metal, the hair metal of the '90s, is more complicated. The fad died out equally fast (until its inevitable Rock of Ages-style revival), but didn't have any clear rock trends to latch onto in the early '00s. Thus, many of nu metal's leaders jumped ships to different waters. As with hair metal, their failures are often more interesting than their actual hits.
No one with any sense of time management needs to find out what happened to, say, Powerman 5000*. But if we cap the list at three, you'll get a few funny, bizarre and almost bearable nu metal reinventions that still won't make you pine for a Family Values reunion tour.
1. Jonathan Davis as a Dubstep Clown, "Evilution"
Korn's recent dubstep album was apparently bad enough to make them relevant again, in the way that "F" grade music is better than "C" grade music. You'd never guess from this song and video, where "J Devil" teams up with two electronic losers (Datsik and Infected Mushroom) to get his ass kicked at a birthday party where his name is misspelled on the cake. The soundtrack suggests AOL's dial up sounds, which means it's about as stale as Korn were in 1999. If this is what the kids want to listen to these days, call me an old man.
2. Aaron Lewis as a Country Music Republican, "Country Boy"
In Staind (sic), Aaron Lewis led the world's most boring band, ordinary enough to be popular and too inoffensive to be Crazy Town. Only now has he stepped things up with this manipulative ode to right wing values, particularly the second amendment. The melody is stolen from Bon Jovi and amazingly enough, watered down. A jingoistic monologue from Charlie Daniels and an auto-tuned, lost-sounding George Jones can't help, and we're left with the most appalling sight of a New Englander posing as a good ol' boy since George W. Bush.
3. Kid Rock as Lynyrd Zevon, "All Summer Long"
I have defended Kid Rock, and will continue to do so, as long as he deserves it. But man, does this song suck. It's bad enough to see the brains behind Devil Without a Cause go bad, but hearing the Kid tie his worst lyrics in with the world's most likeable southern rock band and LA's most colorfully sardonic tunesmith truly underscores how far he's sunk. Hearing this song all over the airwaves in 2008 made me sad not for Kid Rock or my own ears, but for every American who had apparently never heard "Werewolves of London" or "Sweet Home Alabama."
*OK, so apparently they've released a tuneless cover of "Jump" and still sound like a rhythmless, computerized Rob Zombie imitating the Cars.
Nu metal, the hair metal of the '90s, is more complicated. The fad died out equally fast (until its inevitable Rock of Ages-style revival), but didn't have any clear rock trends to latch onto in the early '00s. Thus, many of nu metal's leaders jumped ships to different waters. As with hair metal, their failures are often more interesting than their actual hits.
No one with any sense of time management needs to find out what happened to, say, Powerman 5000*. But if we cap the list at three, you'll get a few funny, bizarre and almost bearable nu metal reinventions that still won't make you pine for a Family Values reunion tour.
1. Jonathan Davis as a Dubstep Clown, "Evilution"
Korn's recent dubstep album was apparently bad enough to make them relevant again, in the way that "F" grade music is better than "C" grade music. You'd never guess from this song and video, where "J Devil" teams up with two electronic losers (Datsik and Infected Mushroom) to get his ass kicked at a birthday party where his name is misspelled on the cake. The soundtrack suggests AOL's dial up sounds, which means it's about as stale as Korn were in 1999. If this is what the kids want to listen to these days, call me an old man.
2. Aaron Lewis as a Country Music Republican, "Country Boy"
In Staind (sic), Aaron Lewis led the world's most boring band, ordinary enough to be popular and too inoffensive to be Crazy Town. Only now has he stepped things up with this manipulative ode to right wing values, particularly the second amendment. The melody is stolen from Bon Jovi and amazingly enough, watered down. A jingoistic monologue from Charlie Daniels and an auto-tuned, lost-sounding George Jones can't help, and we're left with the most appalling sight of a New Englander posing as a good ol' boy since George W. Bush.
3. Kid Rock as Lynyrd Zevon, "All Summer Long"
I have defended Kid Rock, and will continue to do so, as long as he deserves it. But man, does this song suck. It's bad enough to see the brains behind Devil Without a Cause go bad, but hearing the Kid tie his worst lyrics in with the world's most likeable southern rock band and LA's most colorfully sardonic tunesmith truly underscores how far he's sunk. Hearing this song all over the airwaves in 2008 made me sad not for Kid Rock or my own ears, but for every American who had apparently never heard "Werewolves of London" or "Sweet Home Alabama."
*OK, so apparently they've released a tuneless cover of "Jump" and still sound like a rhythmless, computerized Rob Zombie imitating the Cars.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Song of the Day: Fishbone, "Sunless Saturday"
No one still needs to learn that happy music isn't written by happy people. Yet there's something shocking about all the misery in Everyday Sunshine: The Story of Fishbone, the Laurence Fishburne-narrated documentary about the world's most transcendent ska band.
Onstage, Fishbone are a jubilant blast of acrobatics, stage dives and and singalongs, sons of James Brown and fathers of Andrew W.K. Watching peers (Red Hot Chili Peppers, Primus) and followers (Sublime, No Doubt) find the success that eludes Fishbone is sad, but seeing middle-aged Angelo Moore move back in with his mom, bassist Norwood Fisher charged with kidnapping the band's Rapture-pushing guitarist and nearly-empty record store signings for a band that once performed on SNL is downright disheartening. It's funny to watch no one show up to an Anvil show, but only because Anvil got a second chance.
Before Kendall Jones started believing that his bandmates were demons, he wrote one of Fishbone's best songs, "Sunless Saturday."
Fishbone were on a major label (but not for much longer) and had the budget to get Spike Lee to direct their music video. To Lee's credit, it catches some of the frenzied excitement of a Fishbone show without ever looking like a concert movie.
"Sunless Saturday" is heavy, in the way that something with horns and major key progressions can still sound like helter skelter. The melody's controlled chaos makes me wonder how the band lasted ten years before someone went insane.
It's isn't punk, funk, metal or ska--Wikipedia calls it "alternative," which confirms that no one really knew what to do with Fishbone. Everyday Sunshine interviewees argue that they "were too black," "weren't black enough," "were too ahead of their time" or "should have been less of a democracy," the latter point being the only one that Fishbone's records back up. But everyone seems to agree on "Sunless Saturday."
Onstage, Fishbone are a jubilant blast of acrobatics, stage dives and and singalongs, sons of James Brown and fathers of Andrew W.K. Watching peers (Red Hot Chili Peppers, Primus) and followers (Sublime, No Doubt) find the success that eludes Fishbone is sad, but seeing middle-aged Angelo Moore move back in with his mom, bassist Norwood Fisher charged with kidnapping the band's Rapture-pushing guitarist and nearly-empty record store signings for a band that once performed on SNL is downright disheartening. It's funny to watch no one show up to an Anvil show, but only because Anvil got a second chance.
Before Kendall Jones started believing that his bandmates were demons, he wrote one of Fishbone's best songs, "Sunless Saturday."
Fishbone were on a major label (but not for much longer) and had the budget to get Spike Lee to direct their music video. To Lee's credit, it catches some of the frenzied excitement of a Fishbone show without ever looking like a concert movie.
"Sunless Saturday" is heavy, in the way that something with horns and major key progressions can still sound like helter skelter. The melody's controlled chaos makes me wonder how the band lasted ten years before someone went insane.
It's isn't punk, funk, metal or ska--Wikipedia calls it "alternative," which confirms that no one really knew what to do with Fishbone. Everyday Sunshine interviewees argue that they "were too black," "weren't black enough," "were too ahead of their time" or "should have been less of a democracy," the latter point being the only one that Fishbone's records back up. But everyone seems to agree on "Sunless Saturday."
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