A Rant Turned Tribute

I have a bone to pick.  I can't completely decide who it's with exactly, but contenders include Rolling Stone magazine, music critics in general, and the culture of popular music.

Perhaps you would like a bit of context.  Some of you may know by now that I am a bit of a list-o-phile.  Usually I like my lists to be specific enough to make sense, but open-ended enough to have to make tough decisions, such as the greatest ______ of a particular genre or time period.  But every once in a while I love to spend some time in the vast lists that Rolling Stone enjoys dropping.  Recently a coworker and I made a competition out of seeing whose iTunes library included more of their "500 Greatest Songs of All-Time".  (By the way, I won the competition, so this is not the response of a bitter loser).  The list was not nearly as sweeping as it claimed, completely ignoring anything before 1957 and barely entering our present decade or the one before it.  I won't even bother with that list here, but it did get me curious about their similarly titled list of albums, which I quickly found some issues with.

Out of 500 albums spanning from the 1950's to now, and across the genre spectrum from Country to Rap, Soul to Psychadelic Rock, those with female participation in bands or as solo artists make up 13%.  If I were to add only those by either solo female artists and bands with front women, it would be below 10% with 45 artists.  45!  out of 500!  See the whole thing HERE.

Now, I recognize that Rolling Stone magazine is about as sausage-festy as magazines get, but it is also one of the most well-respected publications in popular music, and is, at the moment, the driving force in writing our pop music history.  So, is it the fault of listeners and buyers of music that success is only given to male solo artists, or all-male bands?  Or, is it the fault of these panels of judges, who write articles and best-of lists, painting our perception of greatness with a brush of testosterone?  

And so I'd like to lead you on a scavenger hunt for great albums by female artists that seem to be missing from Rolling Stone's list.  Seeing as I have a tendency to specify lists in some way, we'll look at one genre at a time.  First of all, is there anything missing from the world of jazz and blues, music that has indeed paved the way for all modern pop music?  Miles Davis is there, John Coltrane is there, even Frank Sinatra showed up for the party!  Then, surely Ella will make an appearance, even if only alongside Louis Armstrong, and Billie Holiday should be expected at some point with a live recording or a best-of!  I dare you to try to find either of their names anywhere.  With the possible (but not justified) argument that Ella and Billie were not writing or producing their albums, an even more stark omission is Nina Simone, who wrote music for more than 40 albums in her lifetime, and continues to be constantly quoted, referenced, covered, and sampled all over the place in hiphop and pop.

Those are just the obvious, but in a list of 500 I might also expect to see Mahalia Jackson, one of the greatest gospel voices to hear on vinyl, or Bessie Smith the "Empress of Blues" who inspired all of the above, and who also inspired many blues artists (male and female) who did make the list.  I would also implore consideration of Alice Coltrane's Journey in Satchindananda, one of a few jazz records where the front woman is not a vocalist, but a pianist and harpist.  Still, it's possible that we know of her by the celebrity of her husband.  Newer women of jazz and blues could include Norah Jones, Cassandra Wilson, or Natalie Cole.

R&B/Soul is represented relatively well on this list by the likes of some expected (ie. Aretha, Dusty Springfield's Dusty in Memphis and Diana Ross & The Supremes) and some surprises (ie. TLC, Whitney Houston, and Mary J Blige).  I'm not going to lie, I loved the fact that Janet charts with both Rhthym Nation and Velvet Rope.  Many additions I would make would have more to do with a need for updating (the list was published in 2003), to include newer records such as Amy Winehouse's Back to Black, Janelle Monae's Archandroid, or nearly anything by Sharon Jones.  At this point I might even venture to suggest Beyonce's 4, but are you really surprised?  Still, others cannot be excused by time, because 3 years is certainly enough to recognize the force and beauty of Erykah Badu's Mama's Gun, which is nowhere to be found in the 500.  Not to mention the mature and smouldering Lover's Rock from british beauty, Sade, that came out the same year.  Others that I wouldn't mind seeing on the list might be Roberta Flack's First Take or legendary Killing Me Softly, Gladys Knight's Imagination, something from Jill Scott, or Tina Turner without the abusive Ike on Private Dancer.


I'm sure I could go on, but we'll take a break and move along to Country and Folk.  I don't have a lot to say about Country music in general, and when it comes to albums, the few female-made records I would expect are here: collections of Dolly Parton, Patsy Cline, and Lucinda Williams' Car Wheels on a Gravel Road.  I do however, notice a lack of certain folk singer-songwriters.  Joni Mitchell has some representation with Blue and Court and Spark, but I would add Hejira, For the Roses and maybe Clouds (If Randy Newman can chart with 3 albums, I think Joni Mitchell is entitled to at least one more).  The Joans (Baez and Armatrading) are both missing entirely along with two incredibly prolific poets, Ani DiFranco and Kate Bush.  They would have been well represented in my opinion by Not a Pretty Girl and Hounds of Love respectively, although they each have many additional album contenders.  Tori Amos' Little Earthquakes should probably be included, and maybe her Strange Little Girls as well.  As singer-songwriters go, Tori offers not only well-written individual songs, but album contexts that invite us to find relationship between the songs.

                                         

Moving on to the genre that Rolling Stone loves most: good old Rock 'n Roll.  This genre makes up an overwhelming majority of the list, and is littered with multiple albums of The Beatles (with 11), The Rolling Stones (with 10) and Bruce Springsteen and The Who (with 8 each).  I have no problem with classic rock - and I'll freely admit to having a lot of this music, either on vinyl or mp3 - but it becomes overkill when a list so clearly wants to promote one kind of album to greatness, without considering albums that are the products of imagination and a desire to move the culture of pop music in a new direction.  It also suggests to me a "golden age" of music (7 of the top 10 are from the 60's), that doesn't consider other influences and movements enough.

That being said, this rant is really only worth writing if it is true that there are indeed women making music as well as men.  So who can replace an extraneous 60's or 70's British rock band record?  I have a few suggestions.

Patti Smith finds herself in the top 50 (at #44) with Horses, but I would love to also see her more conceptually driven Easter, which fearlessly explores themes of the religious holiday, such as death and resurrection.  I was certainly expecting some of my favorite female rockers, especially Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart with Dreamboat Annie.  "Crazy on You" was equally snubbed from RS's 500 Greatest Songs, in my opinion, so I suppose we shouldn't be shocked.  I found myself scanning for either Pat Benatar or Joan Jett, who may have done more with singles, but so did a lot of men on the list.  For some 90's representation, I would have thought Sheryl Crow's Tuesday Night Music Club could hold its own, having won Crow the first 3 of her 9 Grammys.


Annie Lennox shows up for the first and only time on the list at #500, and even then, only with the Eurythmics.  I'm not entirely sure what that's about, but wonder if the editors of Rolling Stone have heard album giants Diva and/or Medusa.  Medusa is full of great songs written by men, many of which they consider to be "all-time greats".  Perhaps they feel threatened that a woman does these tracks so thoughtfully and originally.

Another one-hit-wonder on the list is Bjork, whose accessible Post is at #373, but her brilliant electronic masterpiece, Homogenic is left out. Homogenic is considered by many to be the best of electronic music, yet can't even scrape into the top 500 albums of all time.  If this is not an offense to women, it is an offense to the genre.  As we've already moved into the world of pop, I can't help but wonder about Mariah.  In 2003, did we still love to hate her so much that we couldn't take seriously anything she did in the 90's?  If so, it's unfortunate.  Say what you want about Mariah, but she has a more impressive range than nearly anyone on the list, and although it's pop, she's writing her own material.  All the while in heels and a mini-skirt.  Broadway divas such as Barbara Streisand and Judy Garland are also ignored, although each has at least one album that has been recognized by a Grammy.

Finally, let's take a minute to talk about rap music.  I will admit, there are not enough women in rap in general.  However, there is only one woman recognized: Lauryn Hill at #312 with her Miseducation and #477 on The Fugee's The Score, so even though they chose the best, they keep her above 300.  I understand that there is not exactly a plethora of solo female rap artists putting out fantastic albums (and RS was probably patting themselves on the back for including any rap at all), but I seriously hoped for a bit of Missy Elliott, and crossed my fingers for a taste of Salt-n-Pepa.  If they revisit the list, I would be floored if they fail to include M.I.A.'s Kala.


This is by no means a comprehensive list of women in music, but I hope it at least it reminds us that women are making music, even if male-critics like those at Rolling Stone don't seem to recognize it.  In the mean time, check out some of the artists I've mentioned.  I made it easy to get started: all the pictures (and some of the words) link to performances on youtube.

Peace out,

Danice

The Video Stars: Top 10 Dramas

I've decided to take a short break from albums to make a few top ten lists.  This week I have been on a major music video kick, and as a result I have discovered a whole new respect for the medium.  Just like physical albums allow us as listeners to tangibly and contextually connect with the music, videos allow us to experience a song in new, visual way.

There are those skeptics who would see music videos nothing more than advertisements, and I can see some truth in that: videos can massively effect the reception of a song or an album in the mainstream, so I'm sure many are made for purely promotional purposes.  But as I have been watching and picking videos for top 10 lists, I've been convinced of music video as a whole artistic category on its own.   


I have grouped the videos based on what genre the video best fits into, and have one self-appointed rule that no video can be in two lists (even if they clearly fit into several).  Let's begin with my top 10 dramatic music videos.  These videos all have an uncanny ability to tell a story.

 10.  Mr. Brightside - The Killers, 2004.  Directed by Brad and Brian Palmer.

This song tells a great story all on its own, but with some incredible costumes, great acting, a magical setting, and references to one of my all time favorite movies (Moulin Rouge), the jealousy Brandon Flowers sings about comes to life. 

9.  This is Hardcore - Pulp, 1998.  Directed by Doug Nichol.

Three stories are interwoven, all using old film imagery to remind us that it is all hollywood pretend - a fitting mask for a song about a destructive lifestyle.  Creative and beautiful exploration of the song without taking a literal approach, but I kept it in the drama category because it holds intrigue, and asks us to look for the story behind the stories. 

8.  Like a Prayer - Madonna, 1989.  Directed by Mary Lambert.

Better known for its controversy with the Catholic Church and Pepsi, Like a Prayer actually tells a captivating story about a black man wrongfully accused of rape while still capturing the themes of spiritual and sexual ecstasy in the song.  Many videos would go on to push the envelope in order to gain popularity through controversy, but few would do it as well as Madonna. 

7.  November Rain - Guns n' Roses, 1992.  Directed by Andy Morahan.

An epic video for an epic song.  And it has become so Iconic.  And coolest setting for a guitar solo of all time.  The story for the video is based on Del James' short story "Without You", which gives a bit more context for the bride's death, but it seems GNR have decided to go for mystery here.  I think it works.

6.  Nothing Compares 2 U - Sinead O'Conner, 1990.  Directed by John Maybury.

Pretty much the opposite of November Rain, Sinead O'Conner gives us one of the most vulnerable moments in music video history: her unavoidable face.  The story doesn't need to be spelled out because our interest is in the emotions of this character, and we can't look away.  In the same vane, check out Janelle Monae's "Cold War". 

5.  Rabbit in Your Headlights - UNKLE feat. Thom Yorke, 1998.  Directed by Jonathan Glazer.

Eerie and intriguing, this videa was hard for me to watch at first and now I can't stop.  Is this a simple story about a man with mental illness, or is it a parable about the way society tackles its problems?  Either way, Rabbit in Your Headlights is thought provoking and unexpectedly beautiful. 

4.  Vidrar Vel Til Loftarasa - Sigur Ros, 2001.  Directed by Arni & Kinski.

The slow motion adds to the drama and beauty - very few directors hold a cinematographic candle to Icelandic duo Arni and Kinski - while telling a story so important, and yet barely before tackeled through music video.  I especially love the faces of the crowd at the football match.

3.  The Scientist - Coldplay, 2001.  Directed by Jamie Thraves.

Others have down the backwards thing, but none have done so in such a narrative focused and appropriate way, allowing us to nearly forget the novelty of it.  And I'm sure no one has done as convincing a job at singing in reverse action as Martin does here - mind you, it took him a whole month to learn to do it.  Oh yeah, and I think this is the only backwards video to not use the water effect.  An accomplishment in its own right.

2.  Just - Radiohead, 1995.  Directed by Jamie Thraves.

The best stories keep you guessing, even after you've heard them.  This is one of those.  Also, the best use (and non-use) of subtitles ever. 

1.  Hurt - Johnny Cash, 2002.  Directed by Mark Romanek. 

Everytime I watched this video it climbed higher up the list until I simply couldn't deny it the number 1 spot.  First of all, this is one of the best covers of all time.  "Hurt" is given all the more meaning when sung by someone who has lived as much life as Johnny Cash has.  And the line "my empire of dirt" is given a new context from a superstar in his 70's.

The video is fairly simple autobiography, with Romanek piecing old footage together, and yet he does so carefully and musically.  Cash allows himself to be vulnerable so near the end of his life, giving this video a haunting sense of eulogy or epitaph.  A fantastic last word from a complicated and beautiful man that gets better and better every time you watch it.  Really. 

#1 Album of 00's: Radiohead's In Rainbows, 2007

Better late than never, right? The thing is, I didn’t pre-consider the fact that I might want to spend more significant time on albums that most shaped my personal experience of the Ohsies. So I’m sorry that I didn’t stick with the 12 day plan, but here I am at the number one album as promised, and even before the distraction of the first New Music Tuesday of 2010.

I tried my darndest to keep it to one album per artist, I really did. But once I started compiling my list by considering possible number one albums, it was clear that both Kid A and In Rainbows were not simply contenders for the top 12, but for the number one spot. Just be grateful that I didn’t give in and add Thom Yorke’s Eraser to the list as well!

Luckily for me, the two Radiohead albums listed are not simply two really amazing albums, but they’re also incredibly distinct. Two albums couldn’t have more of an opposite effect on me: While Kid A seems to demand my intellect in full attention, In Rainbows has a more flexible feel, appropriate for nearly any excuse to put music on. The interplay between melody and rhythm plays like a good jazz record, and I rarely stop to listen or look up lyrics (though uncharacteristically, Radiohead does supply lyrics in the liner notes). On top of it, when we do stop to listen to what’s being sung, the lyrics represent the most personal stuff Radiohead has ever released!

The closest track we get to an electronic Kid A sound is the first song, yet it’s instantly clear that we are experiencing Radiohead as a full out rock band. (Perhaps Yorke realized he can play with electronics satisfactorily on his solo projects?) And no, this is not simply an experience of a band returning to an earlier formula, since In Rainbows sounds just as dissimilar from The Bends as any other album. What we have here is a brand new band; one who has continued to grow and is finally ready to play with everything that they have learned and discovered over decades of music-making; a band that is willing to make use of all of its members to their greatest potential. Not only that, but they’re willing to let the public decide what their music is worth, releasing a downloadable version first for your choice of a donated amount. Whatever you paid, it’s worth at least twice as much.

15 Steps feels like a punch in the face, but in a good way. Though the album can be listened to in nearly every context there is one very important consistent: some part of my body will be punching out the beat, which by the way, is the most natural feeling 5/4 since Brubeck and Desmond’s Take Five. This symptom of foot tapping/head nodding continues into Bodysnatchers, creating the greatest pair of momentum builder tunes for doing nearly any productive thing. Bodysnatchers is full of speed and sound and distortion, with clean guitar strings settling in overtop the rhythm and lyrics, but as it prepares to come to a close, it does the opposite of expected and drops a wicked guitar solo.

Then with Nude comes another change of pace, but doesn’t shock the system. Instead it melts my insides thoroughly as the string quartet seems to dialogue with Thom’s passionate vocals on the intertwined topics of desire and disappointment. I think this is the first time I’ve thought of a Radiohead song as sexy. And as Thom’s voice rises to the conclusion that leaves me hanging a little, the mood carries itself through Weird Fishes/Arpeggi. Who would have thought “sexy” could be associated with a song called Weird Fishes? But the guitar riff seems to effortlessly roll over the straight drumbeat that pauses only briefly about 3 minutes in, as if stopping to make sure we’re headed in the right direction. Turns out we are, as the song remains mostly instrumental till the end. So stunningly beautiful.

All I Need introduces Radiohead’s first romantic ballad, not without its dark undertones created by fuzzy droning synthesizer, cello, and lyrics that hint at loneliness and even obsession. As creepy as this groove is, the message seems to be a love that runs deep and unconditionally... then again, that kind of committed love can be pretty terrifying...

Faust Arp and Reckoner have most often been the strongest competition to be my favorite track on the record. Faust Arp feels intensly cyclical though it throws a 9/8 measure in every few bars, giving a sense of loosing control, though we hop right back on the familiar rotation soon enough. Still doing things brutally uncommon in the pop/rock genre, Radiohead does the experimental gently, as though holding your hand through the unexpected.

Reckoner begins with an atmosphere that seems as though I’m approaching the song rather than the other way around. Philip Selway’s snare and cymbals sound echoey and loud as if in a cement tunnel, and the soft electric guitar builds its volume at tiny increments. I feel as though I’ve stumbled across the best-kept secret of the decade, and the only thing there is to do is groove out.  

Ever since finally seeing this band live, House of Cards is tied to my memory of their first encore at Thunderbird Stadium. As I sit in the living room, sipping on my rum and coke float, I think to myself that if it were raining right now, I would be moved enough to go out in my headphones and attempt to recreate that outdoor concert experience. Yorke’s voice on the track is even reverb-ed, creating just the stadium effect I need for my nostalgia.

Jigsaw Puzzle Falling Into Place recalls some of the album’s earlier energy, and portrays the story well as two people connect as if puzzle pieces that fit together. I can’t help but think that the way Radiohead is rocking out as an expression of the same chemistry.

In Rainbows closes with the spine-tingling, minimalist Videotape. Three piano chords cycle incessantly as the drum beat is slowly offset, creating a reflective tone as Yorke sings of looking back on a life nearing the end of it. A reference to Mephistopheles not so subtly recalls the Faust theme of the first half of the album, inviting us to examine our own life through the frame the music provides.

At the moment I feel so in love with In Rainbows that I cannot even articulate what it is that sets it apart so. There is an atmosphere to it that goes beyond a soundtrack quality, but settles into my emotional core and finds meaning in whatever happens to be at the center of my attention at the time. Every song finds a certain perfection that allows itself to be played in nearly any circumstance, and yet also welcomes analysis and questions. It’s the most colourful Radiohead we’ve heard yet.

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So there you have it. My twelve favorite albums of the Ohsies are now recorded and heard, and I’m ready for a new decade of music. For those curious and disappointed, here is a list of the albums that had reoccurring guest spots in Listmas drafts. Likely I will blog them one day, but at the moment am looking forward to returning to some older music. We shall see. Happy Listmas to you all!

In Chronological Order:

Eminem: The Marshall Mathers LP, 2000
Jack Johnson: Brushfire Fairytales, 2000
Erykah Badu: Mama's Gun, 2000
India Arie: Acoustic Soul, 2001
Broken Social Scene: You Forgot It In People, 2002
Damien Rice: O, 2003
Postal Service: Give Up, 2003
Death Cab for Cutie: Transatlanticism, 2003
U2: How to Dismantle and Atomic Bomb, 2004
KD Lang: Hymns of the 49th Parallel, 2004
Imogen Heap: Speak for Yourself, 2005
Regina Spektor: Begin to Hope, 2006
Handsome Furs: Plague Park, 2007
Yael Naim: Yael Naim, 2007
Coldplay: Viva La Vida, 2008
Animal Collective: Merry Weather Post Pavillion, 2009
K-Os: Yes, 2009

So, what were your favorite albums of the Ohsies?  What'd I miss?

Peace out,

Danice

#2) The Arcade Fire: Funeral, 2004

When Arcade Fire’s Funeral is mentioned, I must admit, what comes to mind first is not always the music. I think of the thin cardboard disc jacket that often becomes hidden among my other CDs, and the single sheet bulletin style liner notes which in a short band bio notes, “the irony of their first full length recording bearing a name with such closure.” Ironic indeed. For as the tracks explore mortality and loss, they never gets bogged down with grief, but push ahead full of drive and… well, life!

Leaving my iTunes minimized, I pop Funeral into the ghetto-blaster that acts primarily as an alarm clock on my bedside table as I attempt to clean up my pig sty of a room before my roommate gets home. Christmas presents must find spaces, clothes must be washed, and papers must be sorted: welcome to the new year! I’m finding myself spending a lot more time with the lyrics than with all I need to put away though.

The album begins with 4 tracks with the same name: Neighborhood #1, 2, 3, and 4, with a short intermission between #2 (Laika) and #3 (Power Out), called Une annee sans Lumiere (Sorry, but I have no clue how to add French accents in here). #1 (Tunnels) paints a childhood dream in vivid picture of a town completely snowed in (did I mention these guys are from Montreal?). The two love-struck kids dig tunnels to meet in town alone, and find themselves in their own world, forgetting what life was like before.

The neighborhood tracks beckon us into a coming-of-age story, as we discover what we are to become only in light of reflecting on all that we’ve lost. #2 subtitled Laika refers to the first dog sent into space without intention to bring him back as a metaphor for the black sheep of the family. I love the relational dimensions brought into this song though, sung from the point of view of a sibling, we picture the fights with a parent, and even the way neighbors can revel in a good story to tell, regardless of the pain it causes. It’s sung with a lot of tongue in cheek goodness.

Thus begins the year without light. Une Annee Sans Lumiere breaks from the cycle of neighborhood pictures to find a moment to grieve and reflect, but only a moment. Upon closer investigation (looking up a translation), the song is really a joining of the songs on either side of it. Une Annee combines metaphors of family struggle (the father wears blinders like a horse) with a dark world that’s lost it’s power (“hey! The streetlights all burnt out”). In preparation for Neighborhood #3 (Power Out), Une Annee speeds up with tambourine and shouts of “Hey!” that make me want to start running all the way into the next track. Power Out continues to describe the town searching for light, and extends the metaphor to a final frustrated thought and plea: “and the power’s out in the heart of man, take it from your heart put it in your hand.”

Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles) uses actual kettle whistles above the repeated string patterns in between verses. It drives me a little crazy, but creates a mysterious effect as Butler continues to reflect on the relationship between birth and death in lines like, “Time keeps creepin’ through the neighborhood, killing old folks, wakin’ up babies just like we knew it would,” and “they say a watched pot won’t ever boil… just like a seed down in the soil you gotta give it time.”

Crown of Love seems to be the center of this album, while all the other songs run at full pace this one is a simple apology: “if you still want me, please forgive me, the crown of love is not upon me,” showing of Butler’s ability to embody great passion. In the final minute, the track’s string driven 6/8 feel breaks into 4/4 and I break out dancing for the last minute of the song. My only disappointment on the entire album is that it fades out instead of developing the energy yet again, and expanding the song to 6 minutes.

But I forget all disappointment as soon as Wake Up strikes up and calls everyone to sing along to the syllable of “oh” like a good U2 chorus. In this song we return to the theme of growing older, and although the song begins heavily, they cleverly transition into dance beat that seems to face death without fear, affirmed by Butler shouting, “you better look out below!”

Hanging up clothes as Haiti plays, I can’t help but think the repeated counter melody sounds like a steel drum melody, though it tends to be played be flute and voices. Suspended electronic sounds remain while nothing else does, and the anticipated Rebellion (Lies) beat enters right on top with energy-contagious kick drum and bouncing double bass combo. I don’t want to close my eyes, because it’s simply not safe when you’re jumping around the room.

Finally Funeral comes to a close with female vocalist Regine Chassagne, who sings with a haunting Bjork quality. Until now she’s only headed up “oohs” or accented words or lines sung primarily by Win Butler, and I wonder if she was held back earlier in the album in order to create the surprise that In the Backseat brings. Swinging between two feels of either thin arch-shaped piano lines, and a heavy rock underscored by bowed bass, the instrumentation seems to hint at the song’s theme of moving between childhood and responsibility: “My family tree’s loosing all it’s leaves, crashing towards the driver’s seat”. At the end of Funeral, this is one of the few songs that appropriately fades into silence, and I’m left with nothing to do other than push play again.

#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.