Today we’re taking a quick look at BRMC’s self-titled debut as it takes on Spiritualized’s Let it Come Down.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club- S/T
Put aside the name, kitschy band name, and the fact that you spend a good amount of time thinking you’re listening to Jesus and Mary Chain; Black Rebel Motorcycle Club rips. 2001 might;ve been an era of potemkin-vkillages-as band, but this wasn;t one of them. Robert Levon Been on bass and vocals, Peter Hayes on guitar and vocals, Nick Jago on drums—they came out swinging with actual songs. In short, they came to play 9, no pun intended. Been is also the son of The Call’s Michael Been, so that’s a nohter notch in the win column.
“Love Burns” is a slow burn that gets things off to a strong start. Red Eyes and Tears and “Whatever Happened to My Rock n’ Roll (Punk Song) are two more for your playlist. The latter will also have you thinking more about The Stooges than you have in a while. We’ll see where this bracket takes up, but that’s gotta be an early leader for “best opening run of tracks.”
The rest holds up as well. “As Sure as the Sun” has a steady churn that builds into something almost pretty (maybe that’s just me. I was listening at work before sunrise). “Spread Your Love” brings a fat bass line and a nice dose of distortion. As with lots of records, a couple of spots drop off—like the last seconds of “Whatever Happened…” — but these feel intentional, not because of any sloppiness.
I’m probably the wrong person to ask, but the lasting impression of this band is that People slept on them and this record. Maybe the JAMC comps were a distraction, but besides the fuzz and drone, there’s plenty of hooks too.
A lot of these records feel very much of their time. Or worse, like it’s a nostalgia exercise. This doesn’t strike me as one of ‘em. Besides mistakenly thinking it was JAMC, my other overarching takeaway is that this was a goddamn delight, and a record that could easily have been released last week.
Bottom Line:
Spiritualized vs BRMC seems like the most 2001 contest that ever 2001 contested, but here we are. Both are seeded roughly mid-pack (56 vs 73). On my bracket, I went with the higher seed. Seemed reasonable at the time! With the benefit of a couple of new listens for each, I’ll once again vote against myself and ride for BRMC.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Orcutt Shelley Miller and Jesus Lizard’s David Yow get together and do a Captain Beefheart cover reads like the setup to an incredibly niche indie rock joke. I assure you it’s not. And it’s not a joke either. They’ve just dropped a rendition of Captain Beefheart’s “Hot Head.” Physical copies drop next month, but you can listen online now. And you should—especially if you’re a fan of setting your hair on fire.
From Ethan Miller:
On how “Hot Head” came about, OSM bassist Miller explains: “Beefheart is, as Bill would say, definitely one of our big Venn diagram intersections for OSM. Bill had been throwing the ‘Hot Head’ riff into the middle of one of our tunes that had a similar tempo on certain nights on tour. We just kept digging in further and further until it was a full song embedded within another song.”
Miller continues: “David Yow and Steve were old friends, and David just seemed like a perfect fit to bring it home and do Captain’s duties on vocals. David is one of the great through-lines helping to carry the spirit of Beefheart’s musical legacy into and beyond alternative music of the ’90s and 2000s. In my estimation, that explosive blending of sonic complexity and visceral, primitive expression is really at the heart of David and The Jesus Lizard’s power, as it is also at the heart of Orcutt Shelley Miller. Beefheart hand-carved the model for that musical dynamic in marble.”
On the subject of Beefheart, Yow says, “I am extremely grateful for Don Van Vliet and the stuff he made, both the things you look at and the things you listen to, but no more so than OSM. That may or may not be the truth.”
The B-side is a Dylan cover for those who are into that sort of thing.
Today Jason Kolenda’s got the keys to the truck and will be sharing his thoughts on Opeth’s Blackwater Park as it takes on Spoon’s Girls Can Tell.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
That death metal isn’t in my wheelhouse should not surprise anyone reading this. It’s a genre that’s never lacked for skill or talent, but I’ve just never found a way in. What I am into is hearing people’s backstories around records. What is it about any given release that resonates? What was so sticky that years later you can’t describe the album without superlatives (or utter contempt)? Where were you at (literally & figuratively both)? What was the on-ramp?
These are parts of larger discussions I could have all day- and as we go on through this year, I hope to have that become a sort of theme here. They’re important, and they matter. Sometimes it really is as easy as learning why New Order is someone’s favorite band, but zooming out, I think it helps us better understand the people we’re talking with, and in 2026, lord knows we could use all of that ya got!
So! We’ve got us a death metal album (a genre I don’t know much about), from a year that was a musical desert for me. Earlier this week, we looked at Converge’s Jane Doe, and I couldn’t finish the record, let alone find anything redeeming to say about it.
I didn’t want to do that again. One, it makes for a shitty read, and two, it’s kinda cheap. Like Converge, I kept seeing people online talking about this album in glowing terms. To hear them tell it. This is a landmark release…Changed the game forever…etc.
And I did want to hear them tell it—or rather hear one person tell it; Jason Kolenda. Some context: I run/edit an online publication on another platform, and Jason is a longtime writer. He’s also one of the resident experts on metal- and all of its subgenres- and more than once, his work has been a helpful resource in bringing into relief the appeal of death metal.
The words below the jump are all his, and appeared as part of a larger (much larger!) series. Whether you’re a long-time aficionado looking for a kindred spirit or someone like me looking for a way in, Jason’s writing should be one of your first stops. It definitely helped me see this record in a positive light.
KA—
Opeth- Blackwater Park
How am I to begin talking about this behemoth of an album? Even though it’s not #1, it’s by far the most transformative album in my collection. This album changed my life forever. That may sound like an exaggeration, but it isn’t.
Before I knew about this album, music was just a casual interest for me, like the average person — nothing wrong with that, of course. I liked a few bands, bought a few CDs once in a while, mostly radio hits and occasionally a suggestion from a friend, and that was that.
But my discovery of Opeth led to extreme metal as a whole, turning music into a lifelong obsession for me. From that point on, it was a hardcore hobby that I spent countless hours on — discovering new artists, albums, genres, making tables and graphs, and writing about them. It turned me into a music nerd. There’s no going back, and I would not want to anyway.
This obsession was far from instantaneous, however.
I never thought about the term “death metal” before discovering Opeth. I wasn’t interested in it and didn’t think much of it. But this album taught me that metal could be a lot of things I didn’t realize before. It could be interesting, complex, thought-provoking, and even mature. Despite sounding instantly off-putting to many, creating something worthwhile could still take tremendous talent. Hell, it could even be beautiful. It wasn’t just for angry, rebellious teenagers.
My Opeth introduction story is probably quite unusual. I had an online friend I used to chat with about music. There was no YouTube or streaming in those days, so we actually sent each other MP3 files that we had downloaded through a chat room. He sent me “Patterns in the Ivy,” a 2-minute acoustic interlude on this album. He proceeded to tell me that this is a death metal band, a term I was barely familiar with. I thought, ok, that’s cool, I like what I hear. I listened to this song a few times and then decided to check out more. I don’t remember what I heard next -it’s possible I just outright bought the album.
I did not enjoy the death growls at first. It took me several months to get accustomed to them. But I did like the heavy moments with clean vocals, as well as acoustic and instrumental sections. At first, I couldn’t stand the death growls and reacted like most average music listeners would—instantly repelled. For a while after that, I just tolerated them, really appreciating everything else this album had to offer. Slowly, though, I started to actually enjoy them.
For as long as it took me to appreciate the harsh vocals, Opeth was one of the best bands I could ask for to introduce me to this style of music. Fast forward to today, and I still think Mikael Åkerfeldt is the best metal vocalist out there. His growls are just monstrous, in the best possible way. His powerful, clean vocals have a hardy, roughness but exquisite richness. He can also serenade the listener with a delicate softness when necessary.
Blackwater Park is a record full of contrasting juxtapositions, both within individual songs and adjacent tracks. “Dirge for November” may be the most obvious instance of this — the meat of the song being one of the heaviest moments on the album, bookended by ultra-delicate plucking and singing on either side. “Patterns In the Ivy” — my unusual introduction to this album — is a 2-minute acoustic interlude sandwiched between two behemoth songs. And then there’s “Harvest,” a remarkable acoustic ballad in its own right. Opeth is pretty good about providing “breathers” at just the right time, before the listener gets too exhausted, and to give time to process long, complex tracks.
The musical contrasts may be my favorite thing about the band, not to mention one of my favorite things in music. But this album also has some of the best riffs in the metal world. “The Funeral Portrait” is probably my favorite, but examples can be found everywhere. Also, Steven Wilson’s production of this record results in a highly polished production, another attribute that would continue to define Opeth’s career.
When I discovered this, I wasn’t used to progressive music at all, other than maybe some Tool songs. The sudden, or sometimes gradual, changes in song structure and the length of songs were another new thing for me to adjust to. Looking back, it’s unsurprising that this took so long to grow on me. It was several orders of magnitude more complex and sophisticated than the Smashing Pumpkins and Foo Fighters that I was used to.
I have often contemplated whether this album should be #1 after all. Going back through my records, I don’t think it has ever been #1 and has been as low as #6. At this point, it’s still #2, although I’m constantly changing the numbers around.
Spoon- Girls Can Tell
What can I say about Spoon that I haven’t already? As far out of my wheelhouse as Opeth is, Spoon is in it. Not a whole lotta boxes they don’t check for me.
Ranking the records is an exercise in futility. A fun exercise, but still… really, the only consensus is that the first one is the worst one (Telephono), and even that’s relative. From there, it gets really subjective. Maybe you got Gimme Fiction at #3, and I’ve got it at #5 (or vice versa). It’s all a game of inches!
I won’t bury the lede here; I’d put Girls Can Tell at 4 or 5. It’s a solid record. There’s no easy pick for standout tracks; it’s a much more subdued record where the tracks slowly grow on you. They all sound “pretty good!” out of the gate, and before you know it, you’re spilling ink on the record and struggling to pick just one as a fave. That’s just how they roll.
But in the Spoon canon, this is a critically important record. It’s the first sign of what was to come. They’d caught a bunch of bad breaks with A Series of Snakes, took a couple of years to rework it all, and came out the other side with a new sound and a new mindset. I once read an interview (and I apologize for not being able to find it/link to it) where they noted that each member brought in new material, and the others had to guess which song it was based on. Sounds derivative, but if anything, this marks where they went from followers to setting the bar.
Intentional or not, it’s a lot less derivative than earlier records leaned toward; there’s a noirish (?) feel to it all. Britt Daniels purchased his ticket for the emotive/evocative train. Musically, there’s grooves for days. A & R reps might not’ve heard a single, but it didn’t matter. Reinvention. Pivot. Whatever. This marks the moment when Spoon went from a band lost in the mix among countless others to one of the most consistently fantastic bands going.
Bottom Line: First, thank you again to Jason for his take! This was a record I could’ve easily dismissed. Hearing a new perspective gave me a whole new appreciation for it. Still not my bag, but I get why it’s so important to so many. I can’t see a scenario where Opeth pulls off an upset and moves on to Round 2, but stranger things have happened! After today, I wouldn’t be bummed to see it.
(Note: this first appeared here as part of out Top 100 records series)
The origin story of Daft Punk is now firmly cemented in pop music lore. Three guys, Thomas Bangalter, Guy-Manuel de Homen-Christo, and Laurent Brancowitz, get together to make some records under the name Darlin’. A reviewer dismisses the work “daft, punky trash.” The trio takes it in stride and amicably split a year later. Bangalter and de Homen-Christo reform as a duo and take their name from the same review; Daft Punk is born. Brancowitz goes on to form Phoenix with his brother, and the world is a better place to have both bands in it.
Before 9/11, the Great Financial Collapse, and a whole series of mergers (and ensuing culture wars), aviation was, well, kinda fun. There were things like interline soccer tournaments where employees at any given carrier would form a team and travel to places to meet up and play teams from other airlines, which is how I found myself playing soccer under the searing Costa Rican sun on a field cut out of the jungle. These tournaments were really just cloud cover for all of us to get together and have a good time, and on this trip, it seemed like Discovery— and more specifically, “One More Time” was coming out of every speaker in the country.
Hearing Euro disco in the heart of Latin America told me the world was a small place and that we’re all in this together. Twenty-plus years on, this record is forever tied to things like hot sun, fun nights, and joy. It’s sonic bliss and a surefire cure for whatever ails you. Daft, punk trash? Not this record.
Tipsy- Uh-Oh!
When I was 10 or 11, I got a Casio SK-1 for Christmas. My mom had a dream that I would take up the piano, and she probably thought this was as good of gateway as any to get me started. My dad was just a “tech guy,” liked the idea of having some new electronics around the house, and thought this might be a way to bring me around to his level of enthusiasm.
I never learned to play the piano.
There were preprogrammed beats you could play at the push of a button, and you could switch the keys to mimic drums, which is promptly what I did. I also found the battery of sound effects and learned how to record/loop things like a burp, and well, look I was tween.
How could I not use ‘em?
I mention all of this to tell you that Tipsy’s Uh-Oh! reminds me of what happens when that kid grows up. A larger pool of influences to now draw from, and (likely) better equipment, but it’s the same mindset.
Uh-Oh! might be the title of SF- based duo’s second record, but after hearing it, listeners are more likely to respond with something like WTF?!.
With it’s ping-ponging between genres and tempos, it feels like what you might hear the hipper, cooler version of Mos Eisley’s cantina, or at a luau where the punch was spiked with Sizzurp.
Over 18 tracks, the record takes you on a ride with stops in Hawaii, 60s pop, and down memory lane to revisit your favorite Saturday morning cartoons and the game shows you watched on sicks days in the 80s. And that’s just the first few tracks. There’s even a bit of reimagined country and western here with “Reverse Cowgirl.” And bits that sound like a Ren & Stimpy sizzle reel.
Uh-Oh! Is the sort of record that you come away from feeling better for having experienced it, but only needing to hear it once. No Whammies!
Bottom Line: One of these records is a heavy favorite and takes me back to a memories of sun, sea, and soccer- a trifecta of my favorite things! The other was made by Tipsy. A fun record to be sure, but one I’m confident in saying we won’t see again in this tournament. Bracket pick and vote both are going to Discovery.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Today we’re taking a quick look at Ted Leo’s The Tyranny of Distance as it takes on Jane Doe by Converge.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challenge and noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably definitely be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Ted Leo & The Pharmacists- The Tyranny of Distance
Ted Leo and the Pharmacists’ The Tyranny of Distance was finally his time to shine. Released on Lookout!, the appeal kicks in quick—right around track two or three for me—when you can hear the melodies really lock in. This is a band that plays best when it plays tight. Lyrically, Leo’s lyrics are full of sharp, evocative turns of phrase. It’s music for English majors, made by one of their own (complimentary).
In an era lousy with formulaic pop and vapid vocals, Leo injected a much-needed dose of humanity (humanities?) into the landscape. Ironic, given lines like “So I gather around me all the pieces of a song / And fit them where they belong” on “Parallel or Together.”
“Dial Up” comes across as a direct antecedent of “Me & Mia” in all the best ways. The first run of tracks is up there with any batch of indie songs out there. To my ear, “Under the Hedge” is as good as anything he’s done, with “Timorous Me” not too far behind. The first half of the record is sui generis indie pop, and I’d say a must-listen for any fan of the genre.
If there’s a knock here, it’s that the first half far outweighs the second, in part due to some odd sequencing choices. “Stove by a Whale” isn’t bad, but it’s 8 minutes long and right in the middle of the record. If the goal was to put in a sort of intermission or breakwall, then mission accomplished. Mostly, though, it just seems out of place.
The mix is typical of the era, which is to say it overindexes on treble. Not the only record that this was done to, but a remaster would go a long way.
The faster speeds and more political records would come in time, starting with Shake the Streets. Released months before 9/11, The Tyranny of Distance stands out as a sort of last ray of sunshine before the world went dark.
Converge- Jane Doe
I made the mistake of listening to this at work (strike 1), at 4 AM (strike 2), and on Easter (strike 3). Somewhere in the universe is a timeline where this sort of music appeals to me, but this isn’t it. Even in my younger years, when my tolerance for louder! faster! stronger! music was much higher, I still needed some semblance of understandable vocals. A guy just screaming into the mike had no appeal then, and it doesn’t today. Maybe this is just a “me problem?” The record was heaped with lavish praise in multiple reviews I read, including terms like “skill,” “masterpiece,” and “intense.” I’ll give ‘em the last one; it’s intense af, but that =/= an enjoyable listening experience.
Is this something people are listening to at work? While working out? driving recklessly? I dunno. I tried imagining it in all of those scenarios and more, and just couldn’t get there. To those who see it as a masterpiece and a legacy record, I say, more power to you. It was all I could do to finish it.
Bottom Line: Ted Leo all day. No question, no second guessing, no nothing.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
One of the things that makes records special are the backstories behind them. I don’t mean the songs or albums themselves (though those are often great). I mean *our* stories with them. How we found the record. What was happening in our lives when we first heard them? Maybe it soundtracked an awkward junior high dance. Maybe an album got you through a rough patch or bad breakup. Or it kept you company on roadtrips and roads not traveled. Maybe you made what in hindsight was a horrible decision to take 21 college credits your last year of school, and needed a little oomph to get through it. No? Just me? Okay.
My point is that part of why we love the songs we do goes far beyond notes and a hook. It anchors a specific time and place in our lives.
For example, I can’t hear The Call without being taken right back to central California, where the sun was relentless, and I-5 stretched on into infinity. Electronic reminds me of racing to Tower Records on my bike to get the album the second it came out (tape first, then CD). I was introduced to Joe Jackson by way of my dad’s car radio, and now he evokes memories of record shopping with my son in Minneapolis. Califone came thanks to a friend (also from The Cities) giving me the proverbial “you gotta hear this” speech about an earlier record. Deep Sea Diver? That’s thanks to several of you right here in the community.
And that’s just a few of mine from the list above. As you share what’s been in your heavy rotation, I’d love to hear any backstory or backstories behind them.
This week, Side A is tracks 1-12 (ends with “Leisure”). Side B is tracks 13-27.
Today we’re taking a look at Kristin Hersh’s “Sunny Border Blue” as she takes on Jim O’Rourke’s Insignificance.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Kristin Hersh- Sunny Border Blue
Kristin Hersh’s fifth solo album is an intense—and intensely—personal record, with the mercurial singer-songwriter writing, producing, and playing instruments on twelve of its thirteen tracks. Like 1999’s Sky Motel, Sunny Border Blue blends the spare acoustics of Hersh’s early solo work with the fuller arrangements of Throwing Muses’ later work. So what’s that mean, exactly?
Not broke? Don’t fix it! So Hersh released Sunny Border Blue in 2001, and it was more of what made Sky Motel so excellent. Once again Kristin takes over the studio, producing herself and playing pretty much everything herself. The songs are accessible, but not easy. Hersh’s famously inscrutable and deeply personal lyrics are at a peak here–she’s the master of the couplet. You can pull so many two-line quotations from her songs, almost at random, and there’s something there to consider. Hersh’s arrangements on these records do a lot to make unusual song structures sound like normal rock/folk music, rendering them catchy enough in parts to ensure you’ll listen to the track again, every time absorbing more about what makes the song tick.
The result is a stormy soundtrack of her inner life, moving from acoustic guitar to bursts of layered vocals, electric guitar, and the occasional piano. As always with Hersh, the lyrics are volatile and loaded for bear, full of loss, regret, and occasionally fury. “Spain” starts out calmly enough, only to swerve into a blitz of invective like “I wanted you to sleep with her and hate yourself instead of me.” “Silica” and “Ruby” (my fave on the record, fwiw) might pass for a version of dream pop if not for their edge and visions of sleeping with “idiots and prophets.”
This is business as usual for Hersh, and that’s the point. The acoustic guitar, the odd time changes, and the off-kilter lyrical turns all feel familiar, like a nexus between the Muses and her solo work. She’s not reaching for some grand reinvention here, but she doesn’t need to. The songs have her fingerprints all over them, and that alone gives the record its pull. Her style is as mesmerizing to me today as a 50-year-old listening at work as it was when I first encountered it at 13.
And hey! There’s a cover on this record. I’ll have to look, but that’s not a common thing on her albums, is it? Happy to be corrected! At any rate, it’s a cover of Cat Stevens’ “Trouble.” Hersh gives it a rough, aching spin, and the way she sings lines like “Oh trouble set me free, I have seen your face, and it’s too much, too much for me” sounds like she’s staring straight her demons in the eye and daring them to give her a reason.
In his discussion of her discography, Bowden places Sunny Border Blue near the top, and it’s hard to argue otherwise. The arrangements…the lyrics purpose-built for pull quotes…This is Hersh at her wonderful, maddening best.
Bottom Line: One of the interesting subplots of this tourney so far is how (relatively) close the votes have been. Last time around, these early matches saw a lot of routs as consensus favorites went up against picks that barely squeaked in. This time around, that’s just not happening. On Bluesky, someone posited that with more voters overall, people feel safer voting against their own brackets, and I wonder if that’s true. I hope it is, ‘cause that’s what I’ll be doing today. Bracket pick? O’Rourke. Vote? Hersh.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
It’s overdriven pop vs. minimalist country as Ash takes on Gillian Welch
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challenge and noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Ash – Free All Angels
Coming into Free All Angels, I expected a blast of guitars and that familiar late‑90s angsty….or something like 3 Doors Down. Honestly, I had no idea what I was in for (I know! I know!). What I didn’t expect at all was how bright and melodic this record sounds. Ash lean hard into pop hooks and glossy production, and it suits them nicely. Open “Walking Barefoot” bounces with energy, driven by big choruses and a reckless sense of fun. The band shifts from power‑pop charm to radio-friendly and back again, without losing its edge. The vocals are gritty, but the melodies push the songs toward the sunny side of the road, not garage rock.
What stands out most is how clean the songwriting feels. Every track swings for immediacy; nothing drags or hides behind fuzz. It’s all overdrive, man. Even when the themes turn darker, the delivery keeps the songs moving with a lift in tone. By the time “Shining Light” and “Burn Baby Burn” hit, it feels like Ash translating youthful frustration into something almost joyous.
This album captures a band embracing melody without apology. I don’t know what Ash was chasing with Free All Angels, but they found it in sing‑along choruses and unguarded optimism. It’s brash, catchy, and a bit sentimental. All the things! It reminds me of someone fondly looking back at a summer stay at the beach.
Gillian Welch- Time (the Revelator)
In the run-up to the bracket kicking off, this came up as a record people should check out ahead of time. There’s usually a lot of those, of course — everyone’s fighting their corner and wants their pet picks to be heard. That’s half the fun! But rarely does someone else chime in and say (really, really paraphrasing here) “If you haven’t heard this record, you haven’t heard music.” I know I butchered that, but what was unmistakable was the endorsement. You gotta love it when someone goes to the mat for a record, book, whatever. So, being one of the people who had somehow made it to 50 without ever (knowingly) hearing Welch, I had to see what the fuss was.
Turns out “Gillian Welch” isn’t just Gillian. It’s her and David Rawlings — her musical and life partner. Welch takes the lead on these songs, her voice steady and unhurried, while Rawlings floats around her with a dry, golden guitar tone.
Time (The Revelator) is ten country songs about heartache, and it’s a fantastic thanks to the duo’s next-level songwriting.
A few songs in, and I would’ve bet my house that Welch was from somewhere like West Virginia — one of those places in a holler that looks to Beckley as the “big city.” Imagine my surprise to learn she’s from L.A. That’s a heck of a pastiche. But the authenticity is never in doubt. These are her and Rawlings putting their all into these songs, and it shows. These aren’t my bag, but I get why the poster said what they did. I suspect that by the time we get through all 64 of the first-round matchups, more than a couple of records will have been flung onto the “sounds of its time” heap. This won’t be one of ’em. Time isn’t holding us, time isn’t after us. Turns out, time is a revelator (and a timeless record).
Bottom Line: Both of these are solid outings. I went with Welch primarily on the endorsement I opened this post with and a little name recognition. I have a feeling this one could easily go either way.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Ben Folds takes on The Langley Schools Music Project.
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at Ben Folds’ Rockin’ the Suburbs (#48) and The Langley Schools Music Project’s Innoncence and Despair.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challenge and noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Ben Folds- Rockin’ the Suburbs
Talk about bad timing.
Rockin’ the Suburbs should’ve been Ben Folds’ ticket to stardom. There’s no more “five” riding his coattails (okay, there’s three of ‘em still, but still…), he’s got a couple of great records behind him and a new one in the can ready to go. It’s chock full of the usual witticisms that brought us all to the party in the first place. There’s plenty of piano and a good chunk of fuzzy bass. What’s not to love?
If only they hadn’t picked September 11th for the release day. And really, who releases a record on a Tuesday?! Maybe that’s a thing? I dunno. Either way, I spent the day at the airport, smoking, “guarding planes” (lol), and listening to ABC radio; Ben probably spent it wondering what might’ve been.
One of the things I’ve always dug about Folds’ writing is how he writes about the human condition but wraps it in a brand of wit that makes you feel good about it all. “Army” could’ve been a dirge about not getting along with his dad. Instead, a whole generation of us has “Grew a mustache and a mullet/got a job at Chick-fil-A” stuck in our head like a sonic sleeper agent, just waiting to be our next earworm. This, of course, makes piano-led music more palatable. I also suspect he wrote many of these not as catharsis but for his own amusement.
The first song on Rockin’ the Suburbs is “Annie Waits,” and doesn’t pivot too far. As Exhibit A for the people, I offer you: “Annie waits… But not for me.” Iseewhatyoudidthere. The title track is also one of the catchiest on the record, and my fave of the lot. Catchy is good, as there’s a good deal of heavier material here. And tbh, after 9/11, that’s the last thing anyone needed.
Folds’ records have always been a mixed bag for me, with some must-listens and some must-skips. I’ve only ever owned/borrowed these on CD; that came in handy. But the highs! So, so high. I suspect at some point, I’ll be wandering the halls of the old folks home and will just start singing “Army,” or I’ll be in the dining hall and the melody to “Don’t Change your Plans” will pop into my head. It’s a high bar.
And it’s a bar that ‘Suburbs never quite clears. It’s good, not great. Some of the tracks are wonderful, but I can guarantee there’s no way I’ll be signing “Annie Waits” at some random point in old age.
What might’ve been.
The Langley Schools Music Project- Innocence and Despair
Speaking of getting old, I hate that time keeps screaming by, but there are a few silver linings. One of ‘em? No more elementary school “programs.” Look, I love my kids, but there is no need for me to ever sit through another music program. No reason to pretend not to be driven mad by off-key crooning or that one kid whose parents made him play the French horn. Remember that weird resurgence Journey enjoyed about 10-12 years ago? Yeah. Just in time for my oldest’s (then ) third-grade class to do a whole-ass thing featuring their songs. You’d think this would’ve been fun, if only ironically. You would be wrong.
But this! This is great. Maybe it’s because I didn’t feel like attendance was compulsory. I mean; literally no one was gonna give a f**k if i didn’t play this. And tbh, I thought about it. But this whole record made me feel some kind of way. Recorded in 1976-1977, it’s essentially a school-assembly-as-covers record using hits of the era. Bowie? Sure, why not? Rhiannon? Okay. Sweet Caroline? Gotta take the bad with the good, I ‘spose.
On paper, there is no reason why I would normally like this, but some sort of Grinch-type stuff happened, and my heart grew three times its normal size. Maybe it’s the shit state of play in 2026, but man, this was exactly what I needed today. They even cover Herman’s Hermits! Something tells me I’m into something good? You better believe it.
Bottom Line: Bracket pick: Ben Folds all day. There are quite a few first-round matchups where I defaulted to picking the higher seed. This is one of ‘em. My vote? Going to the kids.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
It’s an I-5 battle as Sacramento’s Cake takes on LA’s Margo Guryan.
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at Cake’s Comfort Eagle and Margo Guryan’s 25 Demos.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challenge and noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Cake- Comfort Eagle
Having to force-rank Cake albums would be rough sledding. These parlor games are always fun, but is it possible to just do a six-way tie? If you like a little bit of theremin with your rock, you’re in luck. Maybe a bit of quasi-rapping laced with droll wit? Want some horns and a little git box with choruses purpose-built for singing along while stuck in traffic? I’ve got good news!
Comfort Eagle is the band’s 4th record, and the short version is it’s more of the same. And hey, if it ain’t broke, why fix it? The NorCal band knows what it’s got and isn’t interested in lowball offers.
What they have are tracks oozing with deceptively catchy riffs and songs that transport you to a sun-baked world of short skirts/long jackets where everyone calls you “dude.” Speaking of which, most people will recognize “Short Skirt/Long Jacket,” which had a decent run on the charts and still gets played to this day.
What people might not know is that the band held a (then novel) online vote to pick which track would go second. The title track won, but after 9/11, the band decided to switch to “Love You Madly” stating “Due to unforeseen changes in national media, CAKE must now change its upcoming single from ‘Comfort Eagle’ to ‘Love You Madly.’ We apologize to those of you who voted for the latter, but due to its airplane, corporate, and Middle Eastern references, ‘Comfort Eagle’ has been deemed inappropriate for today’s emotional climate.”
Fair enough. Fall of ’01 was a weird space to be in. Love You Madly is catchy, but not as much as Comfort Eagle. But we’re talking a game of inches here; everything on this record is catchy. If you only know “Short Skirt/Long Jacket,” consider this a sign to check out the rest of the record—it’s so much more than the one song.
On the title track, Cake says they are billing [you] a religion. Consider me converted.
Margo Guryan- 25 Demos
We recently finished rewatching Mad Men here at the house, and 25 Demos is the perfect sort of record for a music supervisor to tap for some of the scenes. It’s purpose-built for playing through a transistor radio, and you can imagine it playing in the background as Betty smokes in the kitchen stewing about, well, whatever was bothering her that day—or over b-roll footage of the city (ever notice how few scenes took place in the street? No? Just me? Okay, then.). It’s just unknown enough to send people scurrying to sites like Tunefind and just known enough to catch the attention of the hipper among us too. In this scenario, I would be firmly in the former camp.
An aversion to performing prompted Guryan to move from singing songs to writing them. Reading a bit online, apparently, she first did this to get out of a piano recital. Later, like many, she had her mind rearranged hearing “God Only Knows” and set out to hear as much pop as she could get her hands on. Those artists influenced her work, and eventually, she had enough to put together a record. Her manager (and later husband) landed her a record deal, but she was unwilling to tour behind it (see above), and so it went almost nowhere—except cutout bins and the cabinets of the few lucky enough to have found it before it faded out.
The record is full of the sort of sunshine and avant-garde pop you might expect. If you’re a fan of Burt Bacharach or (insert favorite Yé-Yé artists here), you’ll find plenty to enjoy. I don’t know if we needed 25 songs of this; maybe 14–16 would’ve been ideal, but it is being sold as a retrospective, so there’s that.
As the title implies, these are demos, and a couple are pretty spartan, but most are more fleshed out than I would’ve expected. Maybe that’s down to what she was looking for or just how things were done back in the day. Either way, the result is a treasure trove of her work. I don’t know if calling this sort of thing a retrospective fits when it comes to an unknown artist, but whatever. Guryan might’ve had no taste for the stage, but her ear for rhythm is undeniable. Her vocals drift between wispy and ethereal—not the strongest voice ever to come through your speakers, but it fits perfectly both with the style of the time and the music behind her.
One of the fun things about these brackets is finding these forgotten gems. How’d this get into the final 128? Was it something someone found in their parents’ stereo cabinet? Did they hear her on the radio? Maybe they took a flyer on a record at a garage sale or while crate-digging. Beats me, but I’m glad they liked it enough to share it with all of us. This was a treat.
Bottom Line: I played both of these while at work, and both were perfect for the time of day I heard them. Cake was a nice little jolt- something always appreciated at 4 AM, while Margo Guryan’s brand of sunshine pop was well suited for mid-morning.
Honestly, both of these are great and did a good job of giving me a bit of reactive FOMO. I wish I’d listened to more Cake! So it goes. These are obviously two wildly different records, but I have to say that Comfort Eagle felt a couple of songs too short, while 25 Songs went on a touch too long. You always want to leave ‘em wanting more. For that reason, Cake’s getting my vote and bracket pick.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Kevin Sent 
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