#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