#4) Radiohead: Kid A, 2000

In a way, it was such a gamble.  How could a band like Radiohead follow up their 1997 album, OK Computer, which was hailed by some to be one of the greatest albums ever recorded?  What musical move would they make next after reaching the heights of becoming arguably the best rock band ever?  That's easy; make an even better album, with more experimentation, that is received by an equally large audience.  
Not that this album was "easy" for Radiohead to release: Thom Yorke experienced depression and writer's block under so much pressure.  But regardless of the details of process, what they came up with in Kid A is a masterpiece.  I experience it as so much more than an album, but as an event.  


Although it is not a concept album per se, it seems to spark a dialogue between the real and the illusion; the true and the false; the human and the machine.  Kid A may even be referring to a human clone, though Yorke insists there is no specific story or concept driving this album.  Either way, the title suggests someone stripped of the humanity that comes with having a name.  And how appropriate, as listening we attempt (unsuccessfully sometimes) to decipher what is human and what is machine throughout Kid A.  


I have begun listening to this album so many times these last few weeks.  The first time, my iPod decided it needed a charge; Other times I simply mis-judged the time I had before other plans or commitments, and was forced to interrupt myself.  Finally today as I walked, skytrained, and walked some more, I was able to make it from Everything in its Right Place all the way to Motion Picture Soundtrack.  Here is my Kid A experience. 


Instantly I’m introduced to the fine line between the use of human voice and mechanized voice, as vocals are distorted right from the start.  Yet as if coaxing us to stick with him, he lets us know that Everything’s In Its Right Place.  The title track continues the voice distortion, far before the vocoder became every pop artist's favorite toy, and meanwhile a glockenspiel gives the track a sense of eerie playfulness.  Kid A feels as though we have lost gravity, and yet a solid foundation is maintained through solid beat, and is not far from our feet; as if we're floating, but it's not terribly dangerous. 


It's clear by The National Anthem that the sonic intricacies are calling my attention far above any interesting train companion or view.  Can I also mention that any national anthem that includes a Bari Sax honking out is one that makes me feel very patriotic.  Unfortunately, I don’t know what country (or planet!) I should be proud of.  Perhaps I can consider it a universal-national anthem.  All the horn parts on this track remind me of either/both Charlie Mingus and/or Ornette Coleman's Free Jazz.  As the overblown cadence draws the anthem to a close, a faint recording of an old band reminds us of what a more stereotypical style of patriotic music might sound like. 


The next two tracks combined seem to draw me into an entirely different dimension of time or space.  In some ways this track sounds more familiar, more closely linked to Ok Computer songs like Exit Music for a Film, Let Down, or even Karma Police.  Still, the song finds itself still more pensive beneath electronically layered sounds.  The vocals on How to Disappear Completely sound more human than anything so far, yet his clear lyrics are saying "I'm not here" and "this isn't happening". 


I find myself sinking deeper into my psyche and finding the ancient philosophical conundrum:  how can we be sure of what is real?  How do we know we're not just dreaming all the time?  The strings build this question into a climax of cries, while the slow waltz-like rhythm rocks me as if to comfort my questioning mind.  And then Treefingers is simply present, with no sense of time at all.  I’m suspended, and if anywhere I feel as though I’m underwater.  I half expect to see the outside world with brand new eyes. 


In Optimistic I recognize that we have made quite the departure from Everything in its Right Place's line, "yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon" to more, well, optimistic lyrics like, "try the best you can, the best you can is good enough".  And although Optimistic fades out, it only does so as it foreshadows the In Limbo guitar riff, and In Limbo slides in as if it is the second movement of the same piece, though not quite as optimistic in tone.


Actually, this whole album feels as if it works as one piece.  Each track could be seen as a movement that explores different aspects of sound and thought, but in the end they all go together.  This could explain why none of the albums songs was really considered a single.  With the possible exception of the next track.   


There is certainly something special about Idioteque.  I wonder if music can have three dimensions, as I find sounds sneaking up behind me, while others face me head on and fearless.  Still others kindly tap me on the shoulder to let me know they’re standing beside me.  And all of that over a drum machine!  I find myself trying to imagine a group dance choreographed by Sonya on So You Think You Can Dance.  Oh man, I hope that becomes a reality!  That thought (and perhaps the meter in 5 on Morning Bell) put an extra bounce in my step. 


The conclusion of the album with Motion Picture Soundtrack offers a brand new instrumentation.  Beginning with organ and voice, I imagine I arrive at a dramatic funeral on another planet.  Slowly, the track has sweeping harp lines and eventually a distant operatic voice.  Repeating, “I think you’re crazy, maybe” over and over, I wonder if I am.  Has this album played a trick on me?  I wonder if I’ve somehow entered a psychological thriller, and I have no idea what’s about to happen.  The track plays on for a few minutes in silence, only to be interrupted with a short return of suspended notes. 


Kid A is an album I will return to repeatedly and ask new questions of each time.  It has even been listed by many notable critics as the number one album of the decade.  I can certainly see why, although there are three more albums that seem to have embedded themselves even deeper into my own heart…

#5) Fleet Foxes: Fleet Foxes, 2008

Hands down the best album of 2008.  Hands way down.  It's an album with a unique mood and timbre that makes my living room smell like the woods when I listen to it on vinyl.  The folky guitar lines and full, high male harmonies make me want to put on flannel and eat spinach at the same time.  If you have not yet listened to the Fleet Foxes on a proper vinyl record, please consider this your invitation to join me on a foggy day at Chalet de Brie (this is the name of my house).  Something about this record sounds simultaneously old-fashioned and like nothing I've ever heard before.  And I swear the crackles of dust enhance the entire experience.

I must admit, this listmas thing has become more of a challenge than I ever expected.  And although I am fully enjoying the listening and writing that is the process of blogging, I know that I cannot do the Fleet Foxes justice.  Also, as contradictory as this sounds, though Fleet Foxes are best heard on vinyl, they are also best listened to in a moving vehicle.  Yes, I do know turntables are rather stationary, and that this makes no sense, but just go with me for a second.  If you can't give all your attention to the album, in a setting that would ideally include blankets, hot beverages, and a well-stoked fire, one must have the album be the soundtrack to beautiful British Columbia, in all of it's big green splendor passing by your window.  Seriously, you should try both sometime.

What I am trying to say here, is that I am not going to blog this album song by song, but instead make these two suggestions: play it on your way home from somewhere in daylight (at least a 40 minute drive), or come over.  I promise one day I will blog about this album in a more in-depth way - hopefully from the point of view of a road-trip passenger - but until then, it must make a brief appearance to accept the honor of receiving my personal award of the fifth best album released between 2000 and 2009.

#6) Sigur Ros: Takk..., 2005

It's true that Takk...'s lyrics are mostly translatable, having been written primarily in Icelandic as opposed to the band’s made up language of Vonlenska favored on the earlier album, ().  (There are several moments when Birgisson breaks into the scatted combination of English, Icelandic, and Gibberish, but I personally can’t tell the difference anyway.)  However, I'd rather not bother with  translation because apart of the beauty for me listening to Sigur Ros is in not understanding their words.  I experience the vocals far more like a breathy solo instrument.  In fact, it’s not even always as the primary soloing instrument, but one of many adding to the texture of the piece.  And so, the only word that needs translation from this album is the title itself:  Takk means thank you. 

And what a thank-you it is, whether this album is meant to be directed to life itself, or god, or loved ones, the entire album is packed with beauty and a magical sense of thankfulness for all that is around us.  At least that’s what I feel when I hear it. 

Today I needed to experience the great outdoors.  It was an absolutely beautiful, clear, cold day in Vancouver, and I had only been out to buy groceries and empty to compost bucket.  I knew I would be listening to Takk... this afternoon, and that it’s not a terribly productivity inducing collection of songs, so I put my headphones on and journeyed out into my neighborhood before darkness would inevitably take over.  It was a good plan.  I’m sure that it didn’t hurt that I headed out during magic hour – just as the sun was beginning to set and bathe our icy streets in warm orangey light – but it also is true that noticing and imagining beautiful things is not an uncommon activity when Sigur Ros is in ear-range. 

I took my camera, and even thought about making this one a photo blog, but alas my batteries died, and Beth took the card-reader on her Christmas vacation to Saskatoon.  Perhaps another time with one of Sigur Ros's many fabulous records. 

Takk… like the majority of Sigur Ros’s music is extraodinarily ethereal.  I knew right away that they would have to make my listmas, and simply chose my favorite album.  I’m sure my going out near dusk must have persuaded my mind to consider that this album expresses a kind of threshold experience.  It can’t just be me either, since the cover art pictures a stencil of a person walking under an archway of tall plants.  The songs themselves effortlessly bleed into one another, and as transitions are made within pieces, sometimes I’m not sure whether or not a new track has begun.  The music on this album creates a mystery that reminds me of Narnia’s wardrobe.  "Glosoli" in particular has me wonder if the air around me is an illusion, and if I look close enough I might find a hatch into some magical kingdom.  I feel like a little kid. 

As I zig-zag through the streets just east of my house I’m full of wonder for the world around me.  I'm terribly aware of my inner-child whenever a xylophone or the higher octave on the piano is played during the first several tracks.  "Hoppipolla" makes me want to dance in the rain, as does the next track, "Med Blodnasir"; "Se Lest" makes me want to run through a park with a kite or maybe a dog; "Saeglopur" makes me want to climb a tree and yell at the top of my lungs; all of them make me wish I were listening to this CD in a giant sandbox or cushion-made fort.  If A Rush of Blood to the Head was black and white, Takk… is the opposite, full of life and colour and magic.  It’s really only a matter of time before a feature film decides to use Sigur Ros alone for their soundtrack.  I’d watch it, no matter the premise or plot. 

"Milano" strikes me as slightly more reflective than the other tracks, and though I can’t understand the lyrics I find myself thinking of Christmas Day in all of its chaos, remembering the beauty and love that I have experienced through my nephews and niece.  (My, they are working their way into this blog more than I expected!).  "Gong" changes pace and mood, adding to the dream-state a sense of threat, as all great fantasies must have. 

There is a certain amount of energy that is kept up throughout the album until "Advari", which plays more like a lullaby, and Takk… retains this mellower sound through to the end (even when "Svo Hljott" gets huge with sound it feels rather sleepy).  That’s ok by me though, as I’ve returned home to warm my circulation-challenged fingers and toes.  I watch the world fade to darkness from the heated side of the window, curled up in blankets.  It’s as though my Takk… experience was only a dream, and it has coaxed me back to sleep only to wake up to a more familiar reality.  All this time we have been searching the backs of our closets for secret entrances, when all we needed to do was put Takk... on the stereo.  

#7) Coldplay: A Rush of Blood to the Head, 2002

Somehow I can’t believe this album came out this decade, it feels so long ago! It is so far my earliest album on the list, and like Hot Fuss has a particularly nostalgic effect on me. Without a doubt, Coldplay has been one of the most successful bands of the Ohsies, releasing four single-packed LP’s starting in 2000 with Parachutes, and completing the era with Viva La Vida or Death and All His Friends in 2008. With no hints that they’ll be stopping anytime soon, Coldplay could very well go on to be the next U2 and find themselves in the mainstream for another 20 years or more, like it or not.

But band history and predictions aside, let’s listen to the album at hand. I’m not sure how much I’m being influenced by the artwork on the cover when I say this, but I find that Politik has me dreaming in black and white. The song seems to state the boundaries in entering dialogue with the album. “Give me time and give me space, give me real, don’t give me fake…” And to the rhythm of the whole band pounding out 8th notes between every verse I put some breakfast together, heeding the call to open up my eyes (or ears as the case may be). And like a good introduction, a hint of the conclusion rounds off the first track with the beautiful line, “but give me love over this”.

I’m finishing up eating and sit with my cup of coffee as In My Place, which is a very good song for drinking coffee, because a good cup of joe makes me feel quite comfortable wherever I may be. My only complaint is that I ran out of milk, so I used soy beverage instead. I should have had it black. I’m going to sit and enjoy this song before I start in on the many “to-do’s” on my list.

Dishes are done to God Put A Smile Upon Your Face. This has often been my favorite track on the album, and I can remember listening to this in my old office at the church in New Westminster as I attempted to plan ridiculous games for teenagers. Somehow the song would be a reminder to give everyone a chance to be great, because “when you work it out, I’m worse than you…” I’m still not so great at that though.

And although The Scientist has become the dreaded piano line that everyone learns to play because of it’s simple chords, I will always remember it as what made me fall in love with Coldplay in the first place. Before ever buying the whole album, I actually went out and paid for a single of this song. (Yes I went out, and bought a cd with only 3 songs on it! These were the years before the iTunes store was something I had discovered). Full of grief and longing, and closely connected in my brain to the haunting music video. And as a note, the pictures in my head are all in black in white, even though the video was shot if colour. Don’t ask me to explain that.

Even though we are 7 years later, I still react to Clocks like an overplayed song. I guess this is one of the downsides to listening to albums from a period when I still spent a great deal of time listening to the radio. Even when the song began to fall from the heights of radio-play, it was used it countless movies and trailers, and later even other songs! I’m not sure I can ever again be not sick of this song. Strangely though, I realize as I’m singing along to the bridge (“nothing else compares…”) that it’s the first time I’ve opened my mouth and sung, even though I’m the only one home.

When Daylight begins, I’m half expecting colour pictures to emerge in my head, but they don’t until Green Eyes. There is something about this song that feels green, far beyond the eyes in discussion. Maybe it’s the acoustic guitar that I feel like I’ve been waiting for. As I’m moving around the kitchen, attempting to clean some mystery items out of the fridge, I make two discoveries. 1) There is beer. At the back of the fridge. I was so sure we were out. 2) There is milk! In the door! I run to the sink, dump out the dregs of my soy-tainted coffee and start grinding some beans for a second try.

I wait for the coffee to brew and sort my recycling as I croon along to Warning Sign, another former favorite track. So sentimental and regretful, and it’s pretty easy to sing lines like “I miss you so,” in a big empty house.

All of Rush of Blood tends to be very image-full for me. The title track clearly brings to mind two moments from cinema.  The first is fairly obvious: What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, when the whole album sits outside on the couch watching their family home burn down. The second is related by theme: in Forest Gump when Jenny is found throwing rocks at the house where she grew up. Both are statements of love, revenge, justice, and simply moving forward out of pain and sorrow. This song for me is like a really good monologue that paints a picture not only of the speaking character, but the implied 2nd person.  In other news, my coffee is much better now.

The fact that Coldplay named their album for this song suggests we look at all the songs through this lens. The album itself is carefully crafted, and far more than just a product of a “rush of blood to the head”. Yet, each moment on the album is a product of great passion and tends to build up a bit of a rush for the listener. Ultimately, the album seems to ask me a question: What will I do with my passion? What does any of my anger or love or empathy or sadness accomplish at all, until I decide to do something about it?

And as if Chris expected me to get to this place, Amsterdam comes as a word of encouragement, even if I can’t help but question whether there’s a note of sarcasm: “time is in on your side… it’s no cause for concern…”  Is there time?  And if there is, what’s worth it? Big questions and good questions, as any great album should ask.  Which is exactly what A Rush of Blood to the Head is.

#8) Justin Timberlake: FutureSex/LoveSounds, 2006

So now it is officially official: I am behind.  Christmas Day was a lot more tiring than I thought it would be, and blogging was simply not an option at the end of it.  Have no fear though, the list will go on, and if I must I will spend all of New Year’s Day counting down to #1. 

Although I knew quite early that this would make my list, I haven't had the chance to listen to it straight through in the last month, so tonight after work I listened, sitting on my bed, drinking lemon ginger tea (because for Christmas, I got a cold) as I wrote this blog.  My first thought as I began was remembering a conversation I recently had with my niece.  She insisted that Timbaland’s real name is “Justin Timberland”, just like Justin Timberlake.  I don't think she can fully tell the two apart!  And why should she be able to, with the incredible partnership they built up on this album? 

Right from the get-go FutureSex/LoveSounds (the song and album) is like nothing we had ever heard before from a boy-band member, or from Justin himself.  It has darker and sexier tones, that are only given more weight by Timbaland’s heavy bass and diverse sounds.  And then, as if he needed to state the obvious, Justin announces that he has brought Sexy Back.  As hot as this track was the first time I heard it on the radio, it packed way more of a punch on the album.  Naturally, it became one of the biggest dance tracks of the decade, by making each and every one of us want to bring some part of sexy back, in any small way we can. 

Sexy Ladies comes off sounding really cocky, but then he gets away with it by admitting it: “Now it might sound cocky, but is it really cocky if you know it’s true?”  Fine.  You’re forgiven.  I'll even let you put "sexy" in the title of two of your songs back to back.  Who the heck can get away with that?

All of a sudden, I realize I must put joking aside.  Throughout FutureSex/LoveSounds, the Timb's use “interludes” and “preludes” to tie songs together, and therefore contains some of the best transitions on a pop record.  For example the Let Me Talk to You prelude at the end of Sexy Ladies that leads into  My Love is so boss, I actually forget how the whole track goes until it starts up.  And then when it does and I've already heard the chorus several times, I'm not bored by it because of how different it feels.  The movement in the rhythmic synth riff is contagious, and I'm doing a sort of upper body dance that I don't think should ever been seen by human eyes. 

And soon enough it happens all over again in LoveStoned/I Think She Knows.  Half way through the song, instrumentation strips down to beatbox and strings, and then cuts out again to a solo guitar vamping on the same pattern.  By the time Justin is singing again, it’s hard to remember that I’m actually listening to the same song - the same chorus even!  When he does move on to What Goes Around…/…Comes Back Around, he has to make it unmistakably new, yet I feel as though the semi-continuity of orchestral strings still ties the two tracks together a bit.  What Goes Around... sounds like a predictable pop song for once... until about 5.5 minutes in when you expect the song to round down, and instead and it shifts to an entirely different attitude.  I stop feeling sorry for Justin, and begin to feel his anger.

And anger is a good thing to feel a little of in the dirty sound, which is exactly where we're headed with Chop Me Up.  Timbaland's distorted echo is just nasty on this track.  Mafia Three 6 makes an appearance and slows the bounce considerably, but gets nowhere near stopping anything.  I wish the album could keep on going like this, instead of moving to Damn Girl, which sticks out like a sour thumb.  It’s not that it’s a bad track.  It’s a lot of fun, but it takes me a while to get into the old school groove and harmony after half an album of Timbaland’s unique and futuristic sounding influence.

But don’t worry, Timb's back with Summer Love.  I am strutting all over the kitchen, living room, down the stairs, wherever with this one.  And although the next song, Until the End of Time, has a completely different tone, once again an incredibly crafted transition prepares me and takes me there, without me even realizing it.  The album is funneling down into a new thought and sound, and maybe conclusion, but there's no forced-ness or awkwardness about it.

Loosing My Way comes across as far more humble than the rest of this sexy and confident album, although Justin gives himself the character named George.  This one is saturated with MJ influence, complete even with a children’s choir.  “Can anybody hear me, cause I can’t seem to hear myself…” is a prayer for help and forgiveness, which takes a moment to sink into, but ends up believable. 

Another Song (All Over Again) is the only other track on the album (other than Damn Girl) that is not produced by Timbaland.  And yet here I think it works a little better.  At the end of the album, it hits me as a very honest track: After he has been a love god in his own eyes, bringing sexy back and the whole bit, ultimately he’s left as a boy who’s messed up and is begging for a second chance. 

Another Song is very far from where we began FutureSex/LoveSounds, but one that was made by a journey of transitions.  Just as each track is crafted to perfection, the album is shaped in such a way that I do want to put the album on all over again to see just how they did it.  However, I have 7 more albums to listen to, so a repeat will have to wait. 

#9) The Killers: Hot Fuss, 2004

I had almost forgotten that these songs even made up an album because of how often they would show up individually on so many of my playlists.  How did it make it's way on to this list?  I blame shuffle.  Nearing the end of the semester I rode the bus home with my ipod in, when "Smile Like You Mean It" started playing, and a flood of memories overtook me.  I realized that Hot Fuss had to become a contender, and it kept playing on my iPod the rest of that final week of school. 

On a general note, the Killers represent a very important aspect of the Ohsies for me: a return to all things 80's.  I for one, never really left them, having drawn most of my ideas of teenage-hood from the brat pack.  Yet, for the wider culture, decades tend to need an extra 10 years to cool off and come back into style; we had to say goodbye to the 90's before we could re-appreciate the big hair, big sleeves and big shoulders of the 80's.  But soon enough, we saw Ray-bans, mustaches, and synthesizers swing back into popularity, and all three were at least partially due to Brandon Flowers.

Anyway, on the bus last week, after I decided to let Hot Fuss have it's chance, the opening helicopter of "Jenny is a Friend of Mine" yanked me from my present state to the same physical spot roughly 6 years ago.  For a few years during my undergrad I had the same schedule every Friday: After Saxophone masterclass I would run to the bus loop, catch the 99 B-line, transfer at Broadway Station, skytrain to New West, and literally sprint up the hill to the church where I ran a youth group in the evening, arriving just in time to let volunteers in and frantically set up for the event.  Why does this matter?  Because I learned to sympathize with many kinds of killers... no, actually, it's because Hot Fuss became one of the few albums that had a high enough energy level to pump me up for the night and to supply an uphill-sprint soundtrack. 

The first four tracks are non-stop, and in perfect 80's form are complete with epic, sing-a-long-able choruses and nearly British accents.  "Mr. Brightside" begs to be yelled out with not a little bit of anger, and "Somebody Told Me" is so catchy that it's dangerous to end with ever, or else you'll be singing it for the rest of your days.  That's why it is couched in the middle of an album, by the way.  I'm sure of it. 

"All These Things That I've Done" seems to be a turning point on the album, and it holds a variety of turning points within it.  I almost feel like it's an album within an album, when it cuts down to the building harmonies on "I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier", and then returns to the earlier "but don't you put me on the back burner..." lines.  At first it sounds like the album is finally chilling out, but really this track has as much energy as the first four combined, and we realize that we've simply been working our way up to this one. 

But they couldn't just keep going, so Andy, You're a Star significantly slows the tempo while still creating a sense of eager anxiety, until we get major chords in the chorus.  And then soon enough it works it's way into incredible combination of synth-pop licks and tamborine in the On Top intro, which makes me feel like I'm ready for anything.  "We don't need to satisfy tonight" becomes my mantra going into youth group, as the album turns to "Change Your Mind" which mostly just keeps me moving. 

"Believe Me Natalie" makes me forget that the horns it uses are fake.  For one of the only times ever, I just don't care.  I just love all the tom beats.  And as we approach the end of the album, "Midnight Show" keeps a high energy, but unfortunately there is nothing else about this song that I can get into.  It almost sounds like a rip of a bad 80's track.  Maybe I just don't like all the innuendo, but for whatever reason it's my least favorite track on the album. 

Still, one complaint ain't bad, and when it counts Hot Fuss pulls together a great conclusion with "Everything Will Be Alright"; yet another important mantra when working with teens.  Flower's distorted voice has become a strong trigger for remembering much of our nearly past decade, and I don't think that's such a bad thing either.

#10) Amy Winehouse: Back to Black, 2007

Why yes, this is my most embarrassing album on the list, thanks for asking! But as hard as I tried, I couldn’t seem to leave it off. Even though I don’t think we will ever hear anything remotely interesting or intelligent from her again. Even though I think in many ways, the album is a humongous fluke, and should not have gained the popularity it did. Even though Amy Winehouse herself really does not deserve to be on anyone’s top list of anything. Here she is, paving the way for the end of this decade, for white girls from Britain making good soulful music, like Adele and Duffy - who I enjoy far more - but must recognize that they probably would not have made it into the mainstream without Ms. Winehouse

I have decided to not spend a great deal of time in defense of why any particular album is on my list. However, there are two specific things that I must draw your attention to that also act as points of defense.  The first is the quality of production.  Back to Black gives us an old Motown sound and feel that works, even with Amy’s foul-mouth and bad attitude.  Other than Mark Ronson for production, I would give nearly all the credit to the backing band. The Dap-Kings are hands down the number one reason that your body can’t not groove out when you hear nearly any track on this album.   Just listen to You Know I’m No Good, and its phat beats layered with down and dirty saxophone and cutting trumpet tones. If it were up to me, I think I would have started the album with this track, but it’s Rehab that actually kicks it off.

In a way, the album mirrors the way Winehouse effectively walked into the mainstream brashly and unapologetically. Rehab begins as if we’re already in the middle of a conversation, as if we’ve already accused Amy, without having any introduction to her. 

It takes a couple tracks before completely blowing me away though.  What it takes is Me and Mr. Jones, and a brand new use of the f-word: “f---ery”. Only she could get away with making up a word and working it into nearly every verse. It has made it’s way up to my all time favorite use of an obscenity in pop music, based on its originality alone!

A few minutes later as Just Friends is blaring on my stereo with that its super groovy offbeat Bari Sax and horn shots, I recognize that this is a rather appropriate album for the Christmas season, considering the stereotypical plethora of alcoholic beverages and mood lighting. This calls for a Hot Chocolate. Spiked of course. And I return to listen to the rest of the CD while I stare in vain at our house’s 2000 piece puzzle. I don’t think the drink will help with the puzzle, but it sure makes Amy sound even better. No wonder she doesn’t want to go back to rehab!

The title track, Back to Black is so wonderfully bitter, it’s hard not to seethe at any old fling that went wrong. A sample of inspiring lyrics: “We only said goodbye with words… you go back to her, and I go back to black”. Oh the glory of dramatic sexual tension.

And how else could she follow up that song but with Love is a Losing Game. Here Amy puts aside some of her rage, and sunk slightly into a classy depression. You know, the kind where a very sad woman sits alone in her apartment wearing a red party dress? Well, that’s what I imagine. And unless I get up and do something, I’m going to begin melancholing with the best of them. Why yes, I did just use that as a verb! Amy’s inspiring to expand my vocabulary through the art of BS. Thanks Amy!

Luckily I don’t need to get up after all, since Tears Dry on Their Own strikes up. It sort of reminds me of a really ironic TV show theme song. But in a good way… and before I know it, emotions shift again with Wake Up Alone. At this point the album starts to feel somewhat manic-depressive. Still, I can’t help but love the old-school vocal harmonies on this track.

Finally, her ending with He Can Only Hold Her works similarly to Rehab in beginning the album. I can’t help but think that the album isn’t trying to be an entire separate entity, but instead is just a continuation of the great R&B that already exists.  I don’t want to move on to something new; I want to keep listening to good music all evening: I’m jumping all over my funk and soul playlists.  Amy (and her crew) inspires me to return to that classic Motown sound I haven’t listened to for a long time, and that deserves a great many thanks.

#11) Death Cab for Cutie: Plans, 2005

Honestly I know, they are more than a little emo, and Ben Gibbard isn’t the most amazing singer who has ever graced even an Indie band.  However, there are moments that call for Death Cab above anything else.  Recently, I arrived home to Beth, who had been writing most of the day and was beyond tired and fed up, and asked me to put some music on that was neither depressing nor upbeat.  I had to scroll through (and suggest) several artists before we settled on this particular album.  It was perfect.

Now, I do realize that to some they could be considered depressing, but their music is not so reflective that I tend to curl into fetal when it’s on, losing all hope in life like I do with say, oh, Damien Rice for example.  Interesting that I say that, because one of the strongest themes on plans seems to be growing older, and expectations not being met.  That sounds pretty fetal in theory, but it turns out sounding more thoughtful and less self-pittying than fetal normally allows.

Getting to the music, Marching Bands of Manhattan is the best way this album could have started.  It builds up anticipation inside of me, not necessarily for the rest of the album, but for anything - anything - to happen.  Something about the mix of instrumentation and timing give me an inner sense of purpose, even with lines like “sorrow drips you’re your heart through a pinhole… your love is gonna drown”.  Perhaps these lines are warnings for my increasingly Emo music taste in the middle of this decade.  Yes, I was listening to Dashboard Confessional too, and no you won’t find them on the list.  (On another note, I have brushed my hair over my face in a rather effective emover for the event of writing this blog, and I do believe it is helping.) 

Next comes a string of great tracks beginning with Soul Meets Body and reaching a sort of climax with the acoustic I Will Follow You into the Dark.  Quick side note: my favorite lyric on Soul Meets Body is “I know our filthy hands can wash one another’s and not one speck will remain”.  In between these include a track of nostalgia (Summer Skin) and another of melancholy thoughtfulness (Different Names…) before the chord pattern strikes up for I Will Follow You into the Dark; a title and chorus that are hinted at earlier with lines like, “but if the silence takes you, then I hope it takes you too,” and later echoed in the weaving of two central themes: death with love.

I have often thought the album sort of dips down to a low point until it hits What Sarah Said, but I noticed “Your Heart is an Empty Room” this time.  For the first time I recognized its stunning beauty next to I Will Follow You into the Dark, potentially offering another response to the end of a relationship.  It seems to be an outsider's point of view on a relationship, with the opinion that one does have the opportunity to start fresh, as awful as it may feel. 

Crooked Teeth was probably the biggest single from this record, and I honestly cannot tell you why.  It’s a little fun, but the number of times I skip this track far outweigh the number I sit and listen.  Maybe because by this point I am only waiting for What Sarah Said: my highlight of the album.  Here  we finally discover how the album's title Plans, works.  “And it came to me then that every plan, is a tiny prayer to father time…”  Written from the perspective of a loved one sitting in the waiting room of an Intensive Care Unit, this beautiful track hit me hardest during the summer of 2006 when I watched my good friend question daily for weeks whether his wife would make it out of VGH.  She did, but I still can instantly see his worn, unshaved face when I hear Gibbard almost whisper, “love is watching someone die.” 

Then, there is just enough musical interlude to force you to reflect on the implicit question that will eventually be explicitly sung: “who’s gonna watch you die?”  Not accusing or mean in anyway.  Ben almost sounds like he actually cares about me. 

And he does.  Well, he cares enough to cushion the album with a couple more songs that pull me out of “what Sarah said” and not remain fetal the rest of my day.  Not that Brothers on a Hotel Bed doesn’t deserve some thought and interest in it’s own right, but at the moment I’m tired, and can’t talk too long of beds without climbing into one.  Basically it’s more on the obvious themes of the album, and it’s catchy. 

And then the album ends.  With Stable Song, which is really not much more than a somewhat un-striking yet appropriate ending.  Perhaps a little too self-aware with an opening line like, “time for the final bow”, but I forgive it fairly easily, because just as the song admits in it’s conclusion, “the gift of memory’s an awful curse, with age it just gets much worse, but I won’t mind.” 

Ps.  I do realize that I am now officially over a day behind in this blogging project.   I might try to catch up with myself, but I also might just ignore it and end on the 1^st of January.  I got over my unmet expectations, and hope you can too.  ;)

Peace,

Danice

#12) Danger Mouse: The Grey Album, 2004

Everything about it sounds like a gimmick.  I mean, really: a cappella rhymes from Jay-Z’s Black Album layered over looped samples from The Beatles’ classic White Album (without permission from EMI) was destined to draw some kind of controversy.  And what an interesting controversy it was, bringing up the increasingly relevant questions of sampling, plagiarism, and ultimately, who deserves credit for what in the music industry.  

I find it a particularly good question to ask in the context of this album, considering that Jay-Z is not bound to make a clear reference of every quote he adopts into his rap.  Rap is all about reference.  There’s no liner note in the Black Album that says “insane in the membrane” is a Cypress Hill line, frankly because that would be ridiculous and unnecessary.  Don’t hear me arguing for any particular ethic on the subject.  I just think it’s an interesting question to ask – where is the line drawn when it comes to copyright? 

Personally, it’s difficult for me to see Danger Mouse’s work as anything other than an art form.  I recently completed a class where we all had to work on a creative project and present our art to one another.  A pattern I quickly noticed was how many of the students had chosen fairly rigid forms to create forced restrictions for themselves to work within, such as the sonnet form.  On the Grey Album, Danger Mouse is only allowing himself to work with two albums from very different artists, and the results are stunning.  Who would have thought that someone could mix Jay-Z with The Beatles in a way that would be even listenable?  Yet here, a whole collection of songs is completed, and for the most part, they work very well, meanwhile making an interesting comment on racism and mainstream pop-culture.  

I was amazed at how often I completely forgot that it was the White Album being sampled; the song felt so cohesive as if meant to originally sound like that.  Even songs that were originally awkward grew comfortable for me, like 99 Problems over Helter Skelter - two very strong tracks on their own.  Most of the listening of this album was on my iPod since my roommates aren’t huge fans of rap, and also because I got these new Sennheiser headphones that I wanted to spend some time with.  Consequently, I was doing a lot of transit riding and walking to the Grey Album.  Several times I felt a little like I was in a Black and White music video – making the album’s title even more appropriate considering Vancouver this time of year.  Seeing the city around me without color hardly took a stretch of my imagination. 

Yet, as grey as it was, I couldn’t help but lift my chin a little higher, walking to Jay-Z’s cocky rhymes, and sometimes brushing that dirt of my shoulder.  At one point I was reflecting on how I felt about Jay-Z regularly using a play on the (mispronounced) name of the biblical God, “Jehovah”.  I’ll admit, sometimes I’m a little uncomfortable with it, but I couldn’t help but notice how he contrasts pride with vulnerability by referring to himself by his birth name, Shawn, especially in December 4th. 

I will always remember this record as a high point of the Ohsies music in that it combined two of the biggest names in music of the decade (Danger Mouse also created Gnarles Barkley), with one of the biggest bands of the century, and is simply hard not respect.  A lot. 

Twelve Days of Listmas

Surely you’ve heard of the 12 days of Christmas, but I am about to transform your experience of the holiday season with the 12 days of Listmas. No one can seem to figure out what 12 days the never-ending drink-induced song is even referring to, but I promise, this will be simple. The last 12 days of the ‘00’s - or “Ohsies” as I’ve taken to call them - will each be marked by a record of the decade: Beginning on December 20th, Going on Record will be counting down the 12 albums that have most shaped (in my own personal experience of course), this soon-to-be past decade, ending with my choice for the number one album of 2000-2009 on December 31st, just in time to begin a new era of recorded music.

I know that this is an extremely critic-esque thing to do, and the last thing I am trying to do is judge the albums I listen to. But the truth is, when recently asked what my favorite part of December is, I without doubt answered, “all the year end lists!” That’s right, not the tree, or the snow, and especially not the consumerism and terrible music, but the lists. Right around the beginning of this month, lists began to emerge on Music websites and blogs everywhere for not only the best of 2009, but also the entire decade! Oh, how I have enjoyed picking them apart in true argument and jest! And so, it’s really about time I made my own for others to apply their judgments and opinions toward.

So here we go. Prepare yourselves, and be sure to stop by on and after December 20th!

Enjoy,

Danice

John Mayer: "Heavier Things", 2003

So let's face it.  This album hasn't even touched my list of albums that I've wanted to write about.  I don't know about you, but I got so sick of John Mayer right around the time when Waiting on the World to Change was playing everywhere, always.  I really haven't spent a great deal of time with him since then, although I was reminded that I don't fully dislike him when his rendition of Human Nature was possibly my favorite part of MJ's memorial. 

All this to say that I surprised myself when I got a craving for Heavier Things while sitting in the library Tuesday afternoon, headphones on, attempting to find related books on the subject of God's immutability (or mutability as the case may be).  It was a really fantastic choice.  As soon as Clarity began I found myself transported to an earlier, idealist state of mind - I could even imagine the paper I was working on being somehow personally significant.  I think I'll blame Roy Hargrove's trumpet lines.  They're so full of joy.  Only downside: It is very difficult to sit silently in the library while Johnny is yelling "someday I'll fly, someday I'll soar!" in Bigger than My Body.

It took a while, but about three quarters of the way through Something's Missing I pull myself out of the books, struck by my appreciation for Mayer's transitions.  Whether they are instrumental breaks (like the hot trumpet break in Clarity) or a wicked bridge like in Bigger than My Body, or in this case Something's Missing's outro: "How come everything I think I need always comes with batteries?" He finds a way of moving to a new thought or expression with a lot more ease than I tend to. 

Which brings me to what I most appreciate about this album: the searching element.  The whole thing is directed at the internal, and full of questions about the heavier things in life.  What really matters anyway?  What does it all mean?  Is numb really the new deep?  Even when he tries to convince us in New Deep that he's given up on questioning the meaning of life in order to just chill out and have fun, he's a lot more believable when he sings "look at the stars, don't it remind you just how feeble we are?" 

In general though, the album mainly is acting as a catalyst for me and the conscious world.  I flip through a few books and bounce my chair in time, not getting too caught up in the lyrics.  Still I can't help but notice how even his stereotypical romantic ballads and pop tunes are framed in a bigger picture and question of purpose and meaning.  Split Screen Sadness has almost none of the normal elements of a break-up song, probably because it's not entirely clear that it is a break-up song, but regardless of what the rest of the story behind the song is, it's terribly beautiful.  For a long time it was my favorite of the album. 

The only song on Heavier Things that doesn't quite fit for me is Only Heart.  Way too pop and electric on an album of diverse, but often acoustic instrumentation: sparse piano licks, rhythm guitar, brass, ect.  Not to mention in an album of searching it sounds too simple, too easy.  Like his semi-conclusion at the end of the album, when he seems to decide on a Karmic view of love and life.  It's a continuation of his earlier allusion to life-cycling in the ever heart-warming Daughters (which is in honesty a little much for me most days).  Karma.  It was inevitable - what else could he conclude?  After his questions and reflections, all he can believe is that it must be worth something; what goes around must come back around, otherwise why even try?  The just plain living-of-life requires some kind of faith.  Maybe this is more true for those who register as NF on the Myers Briggs scale, but it's still worth saying and exploring in an album so appropriately named.

Peace,

Danice

32 Flavors of Whine

You can probably tell that I’ve reached that point in the semester when assignments have piled up and I have fallen behind enough to make blogging (along with other things) a guilt-ridden and restless activity.  Still, I have a fear that if I don’t post anything before December begins, I just might never post again.  Sure, this may be as irrational as my fear of squirrels, but I’d rather not prove nor disprove that theory, and instead I'll go ahead and throw something into the cosmic space of the internet before November officially comes to a close.

I must confess, I don’t have an album to listen to with you this time around.   It’s not that I haven’t been listening to albums lately, but I haven’t been paying them the attention they deserve.  Still, there's something I want to acknowledge that has recently affected my listening experience.

About a month ago I complained about iTunes’ rating system, and how it would not allow me to rate albums separately from the songs that are a part of them. It seems things have changed with iTunes 9.0.2., and my only possible explanation is that I have a reader with enormous power sway in the world of my favorite digital media manager.  Then again, maybe I just spoke too soon.

There are actually a number of features in the new iTunes update that make for an even fuller listening of albums.  First of all, they have brought back the option of viewing your songs in the context of their particular album by simply clicking a side-arrow which displays the artwork of the cover.   A clean single line separates songs on one album from those on another.   It’s beautiful.

And now for the best part:  Under the visible album cover is a number of stars (out of five) that do not necessarily match the average of the album’s individual song ratings.  It does rather courteously offer you in fuzzy grey stars, a suggested rating that is based on an average.   However, if you choose a greater or lesser number of stars, there are no complaints or consequences of any kind.  And vice versa(!):  If I rate an album before rating individual songs, iTunes will suggest the album’s number of stars for any unrated track in grey.  How thoughtful!

Finally, 9.0.2. has also added an Artist scroll bar directly to the left of the Artwork pop-out display tab. This fabulous feature allows us to browse our artists without moving away from a particular track that we’re listening to or working with, or creating extra playlists to do this work for you. Not to mention, searching multiple albums of one particular artist has become that much easier.

So there you have it.  I take a great amount of pleasure in eating my words.  Thanks to iTunes for listening to my advice and offering their best update yet! 

Peace out,

Danice

…Someday you are going to get hungry, and eat most of the words you just said…
- Ani DiFranco