A New Record You Should Check Out

by KevinLeave a Comment on A New Record You Should Check Out

Laura Hobson of Phabies stops by to chat about The Curse of Caring, the band’s latest release.

Photo: Leigh Ann Cobb

Good morning!

We’re in for a treat today! Laura Hobson of Grand Rapids-based Phabies stops by to talk about their latest record, how it all came together, and what’s coming next.

When a reader first tipped me off to Phabies, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I initially thought this would be a band well suited to a punk band or co-headlining shows with The Germs. That’s what I get for judging a group by its name.

The band’s sound is nowhere near that. Their sophomore LP, The Curse of Caring, leans much more toward indie pop, with bright sounds and playful pop coursing through it: more sunshine, less low ceilings.

The odds are extremely high that you’ll get at least one of these songs stuck in your head for a day or two. They’re just that catchy. It’s an album that’s one of my faves of 2025. But that breezy sound contrasts with some heavy lyrics. Throughout the 10 songs, bandleader Laura Hobson tackles a menu of serious topics. “Who’s gonna save us now?” she asks on opener “Blooms of April.”

Who indeed?

“I’ve always felt a duty to create something out of nothing,” says Hobson. “Changing a grass lawn into a native ecosystem or playing three chords to create a song.”

On “Green Cement,” she asks us, Are we doing it right? Are we doing it right? / Pave the kingdom for an endless supply?”

I can’t answer that, but also? We’re not.

There is an urgency there, but The Curse of Caring isn’t a downer of a record. Hobson’s got strong thoughts and some unflinching takes, but they’re never preachy. It’s the opposite, leaving the listener full of hope and looking for a light at the end of the tunnel. We might be heading straight over the waterfall, but we can love one another right up until the end.

And we can spin some killer records like The Curse of Caring.

I recently had a chance to speak with Hobson via email. In our wide-ranging chat, we cover the Phabies origin story, the Grand Rapids scene, the record’s sound, and what’s next for the band. The discussion has only been lightly edited for grammar and flow.

KA—

For those that might not know, can you quickly walk us through the backstory of how the band came together?

Yes! Phabies was started by me (Laura Hobson) in 2018. I had been looking for a way back into playing music for years prior to solidifying the group. I had an enormous backlog of music but no one to play it with and I wasn’t interested in debuting these new songs as a singer/songwriter. The band clicked into place through long-lasting friendships. My partner Garrett Stier is the bassist and manager and my college buddy Josh Holicki plays drums. The three of us have played in the group Jack Droppers and the Best Intentions for a long time. I’ve known both of them for over a decade, so there’s a familiarity that makes practices and shows just feel like hanging out. Josh knew Max McKinnon from touring with his band Mertle and Max was able to join on synth/keys. In 2024, we welcomed Andrew Deters on guitar and he’s the most thoughtful guy. He’ll literally call you if he’s thinking about you.

Congrats on the new record! Was the approach similar to the last record (2022’s Fire Seed), or did you set out to make something wholly different?

Thanks for listening to the new album! The Curse Of Caring was in many ways much more difficult to write than Fire Seed, simply because I had that notion of the “sophomore slump” in my head. Feeling pressure to follow any creative endeavor with something even more unique, special, or exciting puts a tremendous amount of pressure on you. I was able to find a way out of my own head with help from friends who let me stay at their house and use their space as a quasi artist residency. It was a rejuvenating time and I wrote, or at least started, nearly half of the album while down there.

Fire Seed felt like a collection of songs that I used to explore the notion of songwriting. The songs each have their own unique flavor, as we were still a young band trying to hone in on our sound. The Curse Of Caring has a lot more intention, there are through-lines if you sit down with the lyrics.

During the recording of the album when I was intensely immersed, I made this murder map where I wrote all the lyrics out by hand and connected similar thoughts and through-lines with red string to get an overall feel for what I was trying to say. I’d like to think that each new album will just be tighter and more cohesive as the writing becomes stronger.

What’s the songwriting process look like? What generally comes first, the music or the lyrics?

Believe it or not, the lyrics and music usually come together at exactly the same time. It’s almost hard to practice new chords, scales, or tunings because as soon as I start learning, my brain goes off into creative overdrive. In a way, it’s a blessing, but when I’m just trying to practice it can feel like a procrastination technique I use to fight boredom. I never write any lyrics down ahead of time, with the exception of the song “Tell Her” from our new album. For me, it’s too clunky and rigid to force-fit lyrics into a melody. It always ends up trying to sound too profound or intellectual. I prefer for the lyrics and melody to evolve together so they feel tailored, like a couture suit.

“Tell Her” was the exception because it was written for an assignment given by Phil Elverum through School of Song. The assignment was to wake up uncomfortably early, meditate for 10 minutes, and then free write what you feel (not what you think you feel) for 5 minutes. We were then instructed to organize our writing into haibun (a chunk of prose ending in a haiku). The song came out almost completely formed, I only edited a few words and added the haiku onto the end.

I’m not sure if I’d get that lucky again, but this interview just reminded me about the process, so maybe I’ll try it out soon.

On “I Care For You” there’s a (very catchy) line that goes, “There’s too much city in you now/We gotta get out of this town/There′s too much city in you now/Ain’t gonna lose ya to the crowd.” I found myself singing it here and there over the course of a couple of days. What was the inspiration behind that verse? Is it simply a call to get away from all the concrete and back to nature, or is there a more abstract message here?

I love singing these lines because they have a very special memory attached to them. As I mentioned earlier, I had help from my friends when I was feeling daunted by what felt like an enormous creative endeavor. My friends Jake & Merilee let me stay at their home in Cincinnati for a week to help shake up the monotony of my own life, as I had been feeling stuck.

Jake arranged all of these fun things to do & I met and spoke with a woman who is a forensic psychiatrist and bee-keeper trying to save a forest in Cincinnati from being cut down for a dog park. I had lunch and saw “Stop Making Sense” in a group with Bryan Devendorf (drummer for The National) and watched films late into the night with Jake & Merilee (Children of the Corn, The Descent, They Live, Babadook, Event Horizon, The Mothman Prophecies).

Merilee and I went on a guided mushroom identification hike led by the parks department through the old-growth forest. On the hike, I overheard a woman lamenting about modern times, gesturing around at the forest saying, “These kids have too much city in ‘em these days! No one remembers this stuff. It used to be that when you lived in rural places, you’d know everything that came with each season.”

I knew immediately I would be incorporating the summarized phrase “there’s too much city in you now” into the chorus of I Care For You. It was the missing piece that I had been searching for, and it was gifted to me in that moment! It’s so special when things like that happen, that’s why it’s so important to shake up your routine. I never would have heard that woman if I had stayed fighting with my own brain in Grand Rapids. I still would have finished it, but the song would have been something else, entirely.

Grand Rapids, MI. isn’t on a lot of people’s radar. What should we know about the city? What’s the scene like there?

I’m hesitant to talk up my city too much for selfish reasons. I like that it’s not too crowded yet, haha. I think it’s like a miniature Austin, TX but with snow and very impressive and welcoming environmental movements.

I’m thinking specifically of Pleasant Peninsula, a national mural festival whose purpose is to fuel conservation and environmental education efforts. It was started by Eddie Chauffer a few years back but has turned into a full-blown music, art, education, and mural fest.

There’s a laid-back happiness to the people here. I know all my baristas by name and love seeing them. Grand Rapids still very much feels like a small town but with incredible coffee. Every time I leave the house, I run into someone I know. These built-in interactions provide just enough human connection to brighten my mood.

The music scene has always been here, but lately it feels like it’s become connected in more meaningful, exciting ways. When you’re in any place for over a decade, you become familiarized with the people and places around you. I take it for granted that we still have mid-size independent venues who don’t take merch cuts. Musicians have to work unfairly hard to make a living in any place, but at least in Grand Rapids, it’s still semi-affordable. I’m not running myself into the ground just to pay rent. Living here, I get to set my own pace. I love working with local photographers, videographers, and artists who feel like hidden gems.

The Grand Rapids scene feels like quality over quantity to me. Those who are creating are committed to it and it shows. Sometimes they make the jump to bigger cities, sometimes they stay. I stayed because I feel useful here, I have a lot of purpose in my own neighborhood and I like to feel helpful.

What’s next for Phabies? Any shows? Touring? What’s the back half of 2025 look like?

Hey, if you’re a band who’s further down the road than us and is looking for an opener to take along on tour, we’re interested. We’re not on a label, so Garrett’s been DIY-booking all of our shows so far and I bet he’s tired.

We’d love to tour and bring our music to more of the Midwest and beyond. I’m hoping to play in Chicago and Indianapolis again this year (nothing booked yet). If I’m allowed to dream for a second, the hope would be to tour somewhere warm during the winter months opening for a band in the the 500-1,000 seat range.

We are playing up in the Keweenaw Peninsula this August at a music festival called Farm Block. I’m excited about that show because I haven’t been that far North in over 5 years.

Last one, just for fun; I bump into you as you’re walking out of the record store. What records are you carrying?

“Oh, hey – what’s up, Kevin!” I found this record with a woman’s face on it in the $1 bin – I have no idea what kind of music it is and I can’t find anything online, but it’ll probably be fun to listen to. This other record is one I’ve been meaning to purchase for a long time, but haven’t been able to find because they’re an indie Melbourne-based songwriter. I put it on special order and it finally came in 🙂 The album is “Some Kind Of Control” by Ruby Gill, I love the song about the chimpanzees.

Listen:

Phabies | The Curse of Caring, 2025

Click the picture to listen via Bandcamp

Hit Bandcamp to grab your copy of the record, and connect with them via their website and Instagram.

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts! Is this a new band to you? Sound off in the comments or send me an email- I read every one of ‘em.

Thank you to Laura for her time, and thank you for being here.

Kevin—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 27

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 27

28 Yo La Tengo, President Yo La Tengo vs. #101 Prefab Sprout, Protest Songs

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at records from Yo La Tengo and Prefab Sprout

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting 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 some typos.

Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks are always appreciated.

KA—

Yo La Tengo has been around long enough now that most people who know the band have a favorite record, era, or run. But in those early years—before they became your favorite band’s favorite band- they were still feeling their way through to what they wanted to become. President is a preview of all of the boxes; whatever passes for a single in the YLT universe, a good slab of feedback, and an uncanny ability to pull off a cover song you never saw coming.

Regarding the “singles.” I should preface this by saying that the first two tracks on this album are two of my all-time faves by the band, and that they sit atop a long list. “Baranbay, Hardly Working” is an all-timer. It kicks off with a wave of hypnotic feedback that grabbed me instantly and has never really let go. The organ that comes in later and its repetition of it all sealed the deal. “Drug Test” is vaguely menacing— or at least as menacing as Ira Kaplan can muster.

“Orange Song” is a bit of garage rock the likes of which used to radiate out of garages nationwide. It’s hyper, a little bit rockabilly, and a lot unhinged. It’s fantastic. “Alyda” slows things down and is a lovely lilt featuring Georgia Hubley on backing vocals- something we’d see more of as the years went on.

There are two versions of “The Evil That Men Do” here- and in, yes, a harbinger of things to come, they are wildly different from one another (see also: “Big Day Coming” off of 1993’s Painful). The first (“Craig’s version”) feels like something from an Ennio Morricone fever dream- I say that as a compliment. Do psychedelic westerns exist? If not, they should. What a fun genre! At any rate, this would be a great track for one of those.

The second (“Pablo’s version”) is a 10-minute-plus blast furnace of sonic chaos. Like clouds parting, something resembling a “normal” (it’s all relative) song appears before the whole thing collapses back upon itself. If you count yourself in the “fan of noisy YLT” camp, you‘re in for a treat.

It all wraps up with the band putting their own spin on Dylan’s “I Threw it All Away,” because, of course, it does.

AllMusic describes this as the record that “gets to the heart of what makes this band tick.” That’s fair, but what President Yo La Tengo does best is show us a band on the precipice of greatness, giving us a preview of what’s to come.

I should preface this one by noting that Prefab Sprout’s Steve McQueen (or Two Wheels Good, depending on what side of the Atlantic you’re reading this on) is one of my favorite records. So much so that I essentially stopped listening to anything else from the band. I’ll carve out an exception for the band’s “The Sound for Crying,” but even that was on Life of Surprises, a Best Of compilation. Pound for pound, the first four tracks on Steve McQueen (“Faron Young,” “Bonny,” “Appetite,” and “When Love Breaks Down”) might be the brightest example of sophisti-pop from 1985. Maybe the decade?

Paddy McAloon can hold his own behind the mike (Wendy Smith can, too), and their vocals float on top of wonderfully complex rhythms and shimmering melodies.

Okay, that’s a lot of words to say. I wasn’t really sure what I was in for here. Skimming a couple of reviews, I saw what were, for me, red flags. Phrases like “stripped down” signaled that I’d be getting an acoustic or folk-tinged record. No thanks. But I was pleasantly surprised to hear it referred to as a logical next step to Steve McQueen.

If that was a nice surprise, realizing it’s more of a sequel than anything else was a delight. Why it was decided to squish a record in between ( 1988’s From Langley Park to Memphis) is beyond me. That one’s not bad either, but it makes their discography feel slightly amiss.

Any doubts I had left vanished after hearing the opening pair of “The World Awake” and “Life of Surprises.” “Faron Young” set an impossibly high bar (IMO), but these both rise to the occasion. It takes five tracks to get to anything stripped down, and “Dublin” is a doozy. It’s spartan with more space than sound as McAloon sings about the IRA. “Diana” is about Princess Diana, and as smooth as anything else in the band’s catalog.

“Pearly Gates” closes out the record with a rumination on mortality.

There’ll be no stampede on the Pearly Gates
I’ll say ‘after you,’ you’ll say ‘I don’t mind the wait’
There’ll be no stampede on those imposing doors
Naked and afraid, cowering we crawl on all fours
There’ll be no stampede on the Pearly Gates
I’ll say ‘after you,’ you’ll say ‘I don’t mind the wait

It’s a shame that Protest Songs wasn’t released in the order in which it was recorded. Had that happened, I have to think it would’ve served as a 1-2 punch with Steve McQueen and given the band some real momentum. As it stands, this record is known mainly to fans. C’est la Vie.

Bottom Line: Protest Songs was a genuine delight, and a huge case of “what might’ve been.” President Yo La Tengo is rough around the edges, but a huge case of “preview of what’s to come.”

My vote: My bracket pick and vote will be going to YLT.

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!

Check out the full bracket here.

Info on the tourney, voting, and more is here.

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 26

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 26

60 Biz Markie, The Biz Never Sleeps vs. #69 Love and Rockets, Love and Rockets

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at records from The Biz and 3/4 of Bauhaus

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting 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 some typos.

Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks are always appreciated.

KA—

Pity Marcel Hall; he never quite gets the respect he deserves. Like a sort of Warren Zevon of Hip Hop, his biggest hit was a novelty (“Just a Friend”), featured a big ass beat and some seriously off key signing. The bars are relatable if not “fire,” and I’m willing to be that most people of a certain age can still recite them…or after a couple of drinks will willingly caterwaul the chorus at the local watering hole’s karaoke night.

Fun. But that doesn’t tell the rest of the story about the rest of Hall’s (aka Biz Markie), The Biz Never Sleeps. Once you get past that put-on silliness, the album is a goldmine of sampling, beats, and production. While Biz might not’ve had the best flow in ‘89, he was a dynamo behind the boards. And just in case that wasn’t enough, Marley Marl came through to mix it all.

Besides, “Just a Friend,” the other single off the record was “Spring Again,’ an all-timer, IMO. Biz is still trying to lay that weird singing across the chorus, but man! The rest of it with Roberta Flack and Donny Hathaway’s “Back Together Again?” That sure sounded good booming out of the trunks in my neighborhood.

In a post just after Flack’s passing, I noted:

At any rate, this record found me at just the right time. People contain multitudes, but in 1988-89, you only needed five letters to sum me up: s-u-r-l-y.

Bad acne, bad hair (never quite figured that one out), and a worse attitude. Everything was terrible all the time. Even playing soccer- a game woven into my DNA- became an exercise in misery. This team could be better… Our opponents suck….Why can’t first-year students letter?

Blah, blah, blah. I was insufferable.

But hearing the right track at the right time was always the exception. There’d be a respite, if only for 3-4 minutes. I wasn’t the biggest Biz Markie fan, but this track did it for me. The horns up against that beat? Incredible! His bars? Solid. All made for a nice 3-4 minute respite. I’m old enough to know this is no longer my time to refer to songs as “bangers” or that I was obsessed, but both are true. I’m also old enough to remember the time before the internet and sites like whosampled.com. I knew enough to know Biz was sampling other tracks but not enough to know where to look to find out.

So we’ve got two singles—one a huge hit and one that should’ve been. But what about the rest of the record?

There’s plenty more silliness- topics covered include such “hard-hitting” themes as bad breath and kindergarten girlfriends- but also plenty more samples. You want soul? Maybe some funk? He’s got you. Have fun trying to place ‘em all!

One sidenote that needs to be pointed out: it’s not all fun and games here. “A Thing Named Kim” is problematic at best. After a pretty dope build up, Biz fumbles by ending with a shitty verse of transphobia. Delete the punchline. It’s some standard issue braggadocio of the day, and put together nicely. Leave it in and it ages like milk left in the sun. Even looking at it through a 1989 lens, it’s still a letdown. Did it reflect the times? Yeah kinda, but that doesn’t mean we can’t call it out.

Luckily, our man gets back on track with “I Hear Music,” this writer’s second favorite track on the record after “Spring Again.” Why this has been relegated to deep cut status is beyond me. This has “summer playlist staple” written all over it.

Biz Markie’s legacy might be “Just a friend,” but this record is so much more than that; just like Excitable Boy is so much more than “Werewolves of London.”

At my school, having a Bauhaus (or synth-era Ministry) shirt was the ultimate badge of indie cool. This was before such things became common, and to have one was to tell people you had zero interest in whatever was on the radio. There’s probably a timeline out there where “Stigmata Martyr” was a huge hit, but we’re not living in it.

How strange, then, to have 3/4 of the band with an unlikely hit on their hands with “So Alive.” To be fair, it’s got all the ingredients of a hit song recipe: steady beat, beguiling backing vocals, and Daniel Ash half-whispering into your ear.

It’s also unlike just about everything else on the record.

There are harder-edged tracks that might remind one of the more jagged edges of Bauhaus. “Motorcycle” is loud and repetitive in all the best ways. Yeah, it’s about…motorcycles..but who cares? It sounds fantastic. For my (entirely subjective) money, it remains the band’s best.

“No Big Deal” feels like something stamped out at The Jesus and Mary Chain’s song factory (pre-Automatic). It’s good, but doesn’t lend itself to pretend listens.

The knock on this record is that it’s uneven. Like, really uneven. The highs (“Motorcycle”) are offset by things like “The Purest Blue,” a track that takes far too long to go absolutely nowhere. Seriously, was there a song quota they needed to meet?

At 6+ minutes, you could probably make the same argument for “Bound For Hell,” but at least it’s got a rocking groove, some harmonica, and you have a decent time getting there. Meanwhile, some of the slower tracks like “The Teardrop Collector” border on annoying. Not something you want to say about these guys!

Ultimately, this record’s songs sound better in isolation than they do as a collective. It’s a good enough record, but there’s a reason Love and Rockets shirts never really caught on.

Bottom Line: Despite its faults, The Biz Never Sleeps works really well as a whole album. Maybe it’s first-day jitters, but Love and Rockets’ debut is uneven, quite so when compared to today’s opponent. Winning this sets you up to face Pretty Hate Machine in the next round, so that victory might be short-lived. Nevertheless.

My vote: Biz Markie all day.

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!

Check out the full bracket here.

Info on the tourney, voting, and more is here.

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 25

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 25

5 Nine Inch Nails, Pretty Hate Machine vs. #124 Dog Faced Hermans, Everyday Timebomb

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at records from Nine Inch Nails and Dog Faced Hermans.

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting 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 some typos.

Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks are always appreciated.

In case you missed this week’s earlier matches:

Day 21: #13 Janet Jackson, Rhythm Nation 1814 vs. #116 King’s X, Gretchen Goes to Nebraska

Day 22: #52 Laurie Anderson, Strange Angels vs. #77 Wire, It’s Beginning to and Back Again

Day 23: #20 Julee Cruise, Floating Into the Night vs. #109 Eleventh Dream Day, Beet

Day 24: #45 The Beautiful South, Welcome to the Beautiful South vs. #84 Keith Jarrett, Changeless

My junior high school was a hothouse. It had low ceilings and few windows (this was intentional- it was intended as a security measure). The few that did exist were of the reinforced variety.

It didn’t feel safe, it felt like we were in County. And it was overcrowded. So crowded in fact, that they had to add 2 extra minutes of passing time between periods because of the human gridlock.

My friends and I used that time in traffic to swap mixtapes, talk about bands, and whatever else 14-year-olds do.

And so it was in A-hall that I had a copy of this record pressed into my hands. I waited until the bus ride home to put it in my Walkman (related: I’m old).

It didn’t take long for Pretty Hate Machine to rearrange my mind.

“Sin” is far and away my favorite track on the record. The beat is relentless and never lets you catch your breath. It’s desperate and danceable all at once. “Head Like a Hole” has some of the most visceral lyrics on an album full of them. When Reznor screams, “I’d rather die than give you control,” you feel it. Slower tracks like “Something I Can Never Have” are solid, even if they sound like how driving on a surface street feels right after getting off the freeway.

Nine Inch Nails’ sound is dominated by clanging synths and sardonic, shrieking vocals. But Reznor stretches that industrial-strength noise over a pop framework, and his harrowing but catchy music has taken the college charts by storm.

In 1989, the music world was as crowded space as those halls. Even in the alternative and/or industrial genres, it was hard to stand out. But this record did and does. It took the college charts by storm, and my group of friends were along for the ride.

Note: Pretty Hate Machine made my list of Top 100 albums, coming in at #26. This first appeared as part of that project.

Years ago, I was reading a review in (I think) Flipside in which the reviewer mentioned being so annoyed by the record’s intentionally stupid title that they almost didn’t bother listening to it. If memory serves, it still got a pretty poor rating, but that always stuck with me.

Sometimes, you can judge a book by its cover.

Fast-forward to today, and I was 90% sure I was going to do the same with Dog-Faced Hermans. I mean, really? But I rationalized it by seeing that they’re from Amsterdam by way of Scotland and thought maybe, just maybe, it’s some slang term that presents much better overseas.

Yesterday, I cited a review using the term “ostinato feel” and shared that my new life goal was to shoehorn that term into as many reviews as possible. I was only half-joking, but it only took a day.

Everyday Timebomb is a blitzkrieg of jazz punk, angular guitars, noise, and repetition—so, so much repetition. There are some African elements here, and I’ll give them points both for their social stances and the use of oddball instruments, but man, does this get old fast. Save yourself some time and just skip to “frock.” It goes long on jazzy grooves and (relatively) short on squonks and dissonant noise.

There are seven tracks here, and once you’re about a minute into the first, you’re good. There is much ostinato. The novelty comes in hot but burns out quickly—another case of being able to judge a record by the cover. No thanks.

Bottom Line: Thank you Trent Reznor for putting out a record that rearranged my mind. Thank you Dog Faced Hermans for reminding me that I have a low tolerance for “Jazz punk.”

My vote: Pretty Hate Machine all day.

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!

Check out the full bracket here.

Info on the tourney, voting, and more is here.

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 24- The Beautiful South vs. Keith Jarrett

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 24- The Beautiful South vs. Keith Jarrett

Today’s battle sees some sophisti-pop squaring off against some improv jazz.

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at Welcome to the Beautiful South by The Beautiful South and Keith Jarrett’s Changeless.

Whatever else you might say about Paul Heaton, he’s definitely got a flair for the subversive. Few others can wrap acerbic lyrics in sunny pop melodies the way he can. Before we even get to that, we have the band name itself. The Beautiful South is a bit of dry wit for a band from Hull (very much in the north). The group itself came into being when Heaton and David Hemingway left Housemartins at their peak. This, of course, also meant that Norman Cook was now free to reinvent himself as well. If that name doesn’t ring a bell, maybe Fatboy Slim does.

Then we get to the cover, featuring a woman with a gun in her mouth and a man lighting a heater. Wild album art conceals some gorgeous-sounding sophisti-pop. And that gorgeous sound? Well, that’s covering up some of the most acerbic lyrics you’ll hear in this bracket challenge. No one pairs angsty words and upbeat, catchy sounds quite like our Mr. Heaton. See also: The Housemartin’s Happy Hour Again

Distilled own, the one-liner for this record could be “Housemartins as Sophistipop.” or “Close cousin to the Smiths.” Heaton’s less of an asshole than Morrissey turned out to be, so that’s good. I might also throw in a cheap comparison to Prefab Sprout, but that might be because Two Wheels Good just turned 40, which means I’ve been playing it a lot lately. That Petrol Emotion as well just in case someone wants another one.

The melodies are bright. They’d be right at home in an elevator, er, “lift.” The topics are alternately between cynical and straight-up grim (looking at you, “Woman in the Wall”). Along the way, we get treatises on love lost, irony, and no shortage of brass which is a nice touch.

“Oh Blackpool” is a standout for this writer and feels like a 45 rpm of Happy Hour Again played at 33. And then there’s a cover of Pebbles’ “Girlfriend.” Because, of course, there is.

Welcome to the Beautiful South is Heaton at his peak— and that’s coming from a staunch Housemartins fan. The arrangements are on point, and the lyrics are pointed. It’s pop, but he still makes you work a bit for it (the first two tracks are each 6 minutes, for example.

Being jaded never sounded so fun.

So, fair play to Keith Harrett (or rather, the “Keith Jarrett Trio”), but I probably shouldn’t have played this at 6:13 in the morning. This is relaxing piano bar stuff. It’s the sort of thing you wash down with a finely aged scotch, not 2-3 cups of coffee that come from a Bunn machine. Changeless is nice jazz (not derogatory), but this is/was the wrong time and place for it. It’s also a live record, which I didn’t realize until I was well into it. The crowd is that muted- even when adjusting for scale/genre. that’s all well and good, but man, if you’re gonna do a live record, leave some of that energy in! If we wanted a studio album, we’d play one, ya know?

Also: The short track on here clocks in *just* under 9 minutes, which, I mean, ok.

AA review I read of the album refers to it as “subversive,’ but having just come off the Paul Heaton ride, I’m not sure what to make of that statement. Apparently, in this context, it’s in regards to the improvisation. Turns out this entire record was made on the fly. That’s truly admirable! No snark from me on that point.

Another one gifted us this gem: As per usual, Peacock sparks the trio’s deepest-running flame, and his amplified bass line herein lulls us into a memorable groove. The ostinato feel builds through Jarrett’s grinding left hand while DeJohnette’s never-cease-to-amazing subtleties draw us in.

Jesus.

As if jazz fans didn’t already have a (usually undeserved) reputation for being haughty and aloof. Can you imagine someone reading a review like this and being inspired to run out and grab the record? Dear reader, I most certainly cannot. And we haven’t even made it to the liner notes, which are wild. Talk about being high on your own supply.

To wit:

And that’s a shame, ’cause honestly, this is pretty solid all around. “Lifeline”–all 11 minutes plus of it— was a favorite, and I could see myself cueing it up again at some point.

Also, New life goal: work “ostinato” into as many reviews as I can.

NOTE: I want to give a huge shoutout/thanks to friend of the newsletter Greg Layton who helped a ton by lending his expertise and perspective, as well as unearthing a copy of the liner notes and some reviews. His help was invaluable. Greg runs The Jazz Tome, which is a goldmine of record covers, liner notes and more. Seriously, cancel your plans and go check it out.

Bottom Line: Two well done records, neither of which would normally normally be in my wheelhouse. Both are well polished, shiny gems. One has Paul Heaton’s sardonic wit. The other has “ostinato feel.”

My vote: bracket and ballot are both going to our friends from Hull.

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!

Check out the full bracket here.

Info on the tourney, voting, and more is here.

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

From the Archive: A Quick Revisiting of Wire’s ‘IBTABA’ Album

by KevinLeave a Comment on From the Archive: A Quick Revisiting of Wire’s ‘IBTABA’ Album

Today we’re revisiting Wire’s groundbreaking “It’s Beginning To And Back Again” album as it takes on Laurie Anderson’s Strange Angels in the battle for The Best Record of 1989.

When I was a soccer coach, Most players had one or two go-to moves, got pretty good at them, and then got complacent. It was fairly predictable. It’s also incredibly easy to coach against.

Much better—and much more interesting—were the players unafraid to do what I (very professionally) referred to as trying shit. These players might not have been blessed with speed or height, but their superpower was unpredictability.

These players always had a spot on my roster.

Similarly, Wire has never been afraid to experiment with new sounds, bend genres, and ignore convention.

In other words, they’ve never been afraid to try shit.

Of course, Wire is the band that gave us Pink Flag, Chairs Missing, and 154, arguably one of the best three record runs of our time. They followed that by splitting up for several years.

“There are those who say Wire was the best punk band ever because it broke all of the rules, didn’t stick with any of the blueprints and did actually what it wanted…I just wouldn’t call that punk, personally. Punk is just one of those words that’s so overused that you have no idea what it means anymore.”

~Wire frontman Colin Newman

In 1985, they reunited and again tried something new, this time swapping jagged guitars and minimalism for a more electronic sound. They had found synthesizers on their hiatus and embraced them. Signed to Mute, they delivered a 1-2 punch of 1987’s The Ideal Copy in 1987 and A Bell Is A Cup…Until It Is Struck the next year. The band’s live sound was always quite different from what listeners experienced on the records—mainly because the technology they used to create the music in those days wasn’t exactly easy to load in the van and take on the road.

Nevertheless, there was a growing demand from fans for a live record. That could’ve been easy. Record a show or two, clean the tapes up in post-production, and ship units. Simple enough. But Wire’s never been one to take the easy route. Instead, they decided to try something new.

Enter It’s Beginning To And Back Again (“IBTABA”)

The quick and dirty story of IBTABA is that the record is 11 alternate takes, half from The Ideal Copy and A Bell… and the rest previously unreleased. Describing it that way is also reductive. Wire didn’t just mix things up; they took the songs, dismantled them, and rebuilt them using overdubbed guitar, synth, and vocals—most of the drum parts stayed. The results are (almost) wholly new tracks.

An album of remixes also often represents a creative drought, a cash grab, or both. And those indictments would have been justified had these been straightforward reworkings. But they’re not; they’re complete revampings and remodeling of what previously existed. In many cases, the titles are the only recognizable things left standing.

Experiments sometimes represent breakthroughs; sometimes, they end up with shattered glass on the lab floor. One of the knocks against IBTABA is that it’s a mixed bag. Some of the songs are brilliant, and some are… not.

“Finest Drops” is heavier than the originals, and that extra bounce makes for a superior version. The grit and bleak imagery of “German Shepherds” benefit similarly from a revamping here (IBTABA’s title is derived from a line in this song). And most people agree that this version of “In Vivo” is much worse than the original mix. It’s also worth noting that it wasn’t included on the original vinyl release and was only added later when the label wanted another single. If A Bell Is A Cup…Until It Is Struck represents peak pop for the band; this record represents an intentional dive back toward the experimental.

The 12” version of “Eardrum Buzz” (the second single) is here and is as radio-friendly as the band gets. In the opinion of this writer, the 12” is light years better than the original, and the original isn’t bad.  It was also the on-ramp to the band for many, thanks to decent rotation on MTV. At the opposite end of the spectrum are tracks like “Over Theirs,” which was likely the off-ramp for those same fans, and why you saw so many copies of IBTABA in the cutout bin not too long after the record was released.

Distilled down, IBTABA represents some amazing results and some…not so amazing ones. It’s a signpost that marks the band’s second era and closes the book on the Pink Flag/Chairs Missing/154 triad for good. Call Wire what you will; at this point in their career, they might’ve still embraced the punk ethos writ large, but the days of playing punk music were done and dusted.

There is also a timing issue, of course. 1989 was a seminal year for albums; the calendar was packed with great releases—and IBTABA isn’t in line with any of them. If you wanted comfortable, indie, or “college rock,” this wasn’t the record for you. But if you like unpredictability and bands opposed to complacency, then IBTABA checks a lot of boxes.

(sigh)

Ok, look; I know I’m supposed to hold this album in some high(er) regard, but I just can’t. I know Anderson is a beloved figure who has long been on the cutting edge of avant-garde art and was Lou Reed’s partner, among other notable achievements.

None of that takes away from the fact that the entire time I listened to Strange Angels, I felt like I was watching a rehearsal for a play at the Learning Annex directed by someone who thinks they’re too good for the place. At its best, it felt like it was trying to punch above its weight (“Ramon”). At its worst, it was just annoying (“The Day the Devil”). I’m not trying to rain on anyone’s parade here- if you like this, more power to you! But man, life’s just too short…

Bottom Line: One of my Desert Island Discs is facing off against a record I could barely get through. Strange Angels was always going to have a steep climb, but the record’s pretentious nature didn’t help.

My vote: Bracket and vote are for IBTABA, without a second thought.

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!

Check out the full bracket here.

Info on the tourney, voting, and more is here.

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 21-Janet Jackson vs. King’s X

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 21-Janet Jackson vs. King’s X

Miss Jackson takes on Gretchen

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation 1814 and Gretchen Goes to Nebraska by King’s X

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting 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 some typos.

Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks are always appreciated.

KA—

If Jackson’s Control album was a declaration of independence, follow up, Rhythm Nation 1814 was her manifesto on how she thought the world should be.

So how do you follow up an artistic/commercial victory like that? Well, you start by going back to Minneapolis and again working with Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis. There’s a familiarity there, but 1989 was a new day and that meant a new direction for this record. Jackson had some things to say, and the synth pop of the last record would give way to a (relatively) grittier sound. Less synths, more guitar. She was taking on some heavy topics and weighty topics require weighty foundations.

Those nasty grooves are all over this record, but so too is the New Jack Swing sound. There’s hard charging riffs, and even samples from the last album.

As many longtime readers know, i’m not exactly a fan of the interludes and skits that were in vogue back int he day. At best they disrupted a record’s flow. At worst they were just obnoxious. Rhythm Nation is an exception; here, they do well to tie everything together, helping Jackson make her case. The title track is a call to arms, with songs like “State of the World” and “Livin’ in a World (They Didn’t Make)” serving as supporting arguments.

But! This is also a Janet Jackson record, and she (and Jam and lewis) do well to know when to let off the gas and let us let our hair down. “Miss You Much” is straight up bit of pop ,ready made for a run up the charts. Ditto “Escapade” and it’s easy, breezy escapism. “Alright” might be the most underrated track on Jackson’s first 5-6 records. Play it and try not to feel better about the world, if only for a moment. And it wouldn’t be a Janet Jackson record without a torch song or two- “Come Back to Me” fits the bill nicely. “Someday Is Tonight” feels is the logical successor to Control’s “Let’s Wait a While.”

Rhythm Nation 1814 is a serious record made by an artist hellbent on having the wordl take her seriously. Mission Accomplished. It’s not lost on me that one of the early lines we hear on the title track is “It’s time to give a damn, let’s work together.” This is an album that will pull you to the dancefloor, but make you think while you’re doing it. All this from an artist then in her early 20’s.

As she sings on Escapade, “We’ll make the rules up as we go along/And break them all if we’re not havin’ fun”

Jackson’s stardom and lasting influence are hard to argue. Meanwhile, a case for King’s X is hard to make. If anything, they might dominate the “what might’ve been” leaderboards, but are otherwise a footnote in rock history. Maybe fodder for bar trivia or that pedantic “rock guy” we all know.

I can vaguely recall seeing one of their videos is fairly decent rotation on MTV, but I’ll be damned if I can remember which track it was. It’s not that this is objectively bad music— it’s not— it’s just not something that ever stuck with me. Part of that may have to do with their being saddled with a Christian Rock tag. While not overtly so in the same manner as ,say, Stryper, there was enough there to get them sorted into the bucket. The band had to spend a lot of time and energy stating that they were simply Christians that happened to play in a band together. Which, ok. Nothing wrong with that, but that’s a needle you aren’t gonna be able to thread in 1989.

Frontman Doug Pinnick was also gay, and that meant Christian stores wouldn’t carry the record. Meanwhile Prog fans had what they needed in bands like Rush. They couldn’t win.

In another timeline, things like discrimination wouldn’t exist, the band’s timing would’ve been better, and King’s X would’ve been huge. If nothing else, Pinnick’s vocals would get the credit they deserve— he can sing and do metal yells with the best of ‘em.

As it stands, it’s a good record heard by far too few people to have made a dent.

Bottom Line: Rhythm Nation 1814 was a huge commercial success, but also got a lot of people to think about things they otherwise might not’ve. King’s X is prima facie evidence that not every good record rises to the top.

My vote: My bracket pick and vote will be going to Rhythm Nation 1814.

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!

Check out the full bracket here.

Info on the tourney, voting, and more is here.

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 20

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 20

#36 The Cult, Sonic Temple vs. #93 Lenny Kravitz, Let Love Rule

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at records from The Cult and Lenny Kravitz

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting 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 some typos.

Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks are always appreciated.

In case you missed this week’s earlier matches, check out:

Day 16: #41 Mekons, The Mekons Rock n’ Roll takes on #88 Slint’s Tweez

Day 17: #4 The Cure, Disintegration vs. #125 Cher’s Heart of Stone

Day 18: #61 The Blue Nile, Hats vs. #68 Soul II Soul, Club Classics Vol. 1

Day 19: #29 XTC, Oranges and Lemons vs. #100 Pizzicato Five, On Her Majesty’s Request

KA—

By 1989, The Cult was riding high. Their previous two outings (Love and Electric) had brought legions of fans into the fold. Who could blame them for peacocking a little bit? Sonic Temple is the manifestation of all of those elements. It’s the band at the loudest. The riffs their most muscular. Ian Astbury’s voice has two settings: kind of loud and “hell yeah.” Both are on display here. Most casual listeners will recognize the track “Fire Woman,” as it still receives fairly routine airplay on classic rock stations. “Sweet Soul Sister” does, too, albeit much less often.

Not everyone was on board; with Robert Christgau noting, “Having risen from cultdom as a joke, metal band, metal fans were too dumb to get, and they transmute into a dumb metal band. Dumb was the easy part. Ha ha.”

That’s it. That’s the entire review. Oof.

And, look, I get it. This isn’t for everyone. Sonic Temple is the record you heard coming from the garage of that guy down the block who was always working on his car. The record practically came with a fleece-lined Levi’s jacket. This is the stuff of V8s and backroads. It will not fare well in a Prius.

But if you’re in? This fills the bill. It’s a record that seethes and writhes. Billy Duffy’s riffs tower over you. Iggy Pop pops in for a cameo in “New York City.” It’s a rollicking good time. It’s not the cure for insomnia.

Sonic Temple is a pretty straightforward record. What you see is what you get. Simple. It’s a lot of things, but dumb isn’t one of them.

At the airport where I work, there is an ordinance stating that taxis cannot pick up passengers anywhere along the terminal roadway. Examining it from a strictly practical perspective, this makes sense. There’s literally only one roadway, and even for a mid-sized town with a 16-gate terminal, it can get sketchy. You’d be surprised how often people manage to come down it the wrong way. It is much better to have all of the cabs in one spot where you can pick and choose which company, etc.

All well and good…as long as you know the backstory…which I usually have to explain about 1-2x a month to someone wondering why no cabs will stop for them. I go out front to get some steps in and find myself explaining that, no, this isn’t a case of racism-institutional or otherwise–just a weird result of bad engineering and county ordinances.

And almost every time it happens, I get Kravitz’s “Mr. Cab Driver” stuck in my head. For better or worse, it’s got a stone-cold groove and is IMO the best track on the record. I’d love for it to be hopelessly out of date, but as we all know, it’s not. We’ve come a long way. We’ve got a ways to go.

At any rate, the track is an exception on an otherwise good but frankly sanitary record. There’s no arguing Kravitz’s talent as a musician, but with few exceptions, it feels like a pastiche of the back end of the Beatles’ catalog and maybe a dash of classic rock. Some of the tracks sound good and loud. That’s cool, but there aren’t really any boundaries broken or corners pushed up against.

Times may have changed, but even in ’89, this feels like a record a Gap manager would be safe playing in-store.

Let love rule? Sure. However, that has been done over and over. Where’s the edge? The closest we get is the F-bomb dropped on Mr. Cab driver, and even that isn’t half as angry as the people I sometimes run into at work.

Bottom Line: Both records are textbook cases of “what you see is what you get.” There’s no larger message or meaning here. Within that context, but are fine records that hold up well. Neither feels particularly groundbreaking, even when listening with the benefit of hindsight.

My vote: If you held both records out in front of me and said, “Pick one!” I’d go with Sonic Temple. Of the two, it’s the one I enjoyed playing 2x in a row. My bracket and vote will be going toward Messrs. Astbury and Duffy.

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!

Check out the full bracket here.

Info on the tourney, voting, and more is here.

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 19

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 19

29 XTC, Oranges and Lemons vs. #100 Pizzicato Five, On Her Majesty’s Request

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at records from XTC & Pizzicato Five

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting 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 some typos.

Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks are always appreciated.

KA—

Memphis can be a funny place to live if you’re not from there. The traffic is like a video game; the people are either the nicest you’ll ever meet or not, and so on. Living there briefly in the late ’90s is something I’ve tried to memory-hole, but a few moments still stand out. One of which was an impossibly sunny day. The sort of day where you think nothing could make this even better…and then XTC’s “King for a day” comes on the radio. And let me tell you, blasting this, windows down as I whizzed along on I-240 might be the highlight of my time living there.

“I don’t know how to write a big hit song” is a funny line coming from someone like Andy Partridge. And it’s true that he–and XTC– haven’t exactly dominated the charts, but that’s more an indictment of our tastes than his skill. This is, after all, the band that gave us “Generals and Majors,” “Senses Working Overtime,” and “Making Plans for Nigel.” One of their biggest (“Dear God”) is a B-side on a single that should’ve been a hit (“Grass”). Maybe they were too self-serious; maybe it was a timing issue.

All of that to say that by the time 1989 rolled around, I can’t blame the band for saying “F it” and just making a fun record. Brian Wilson’s passing has colored everything I’m listening to right now, but it seems clear to me that the band had been spending a lot of time steeped in the Beach Boys’ discography. The sounds, the textures, and the lushness of it all scream Pet Sounds twenty years later. Even the cover is bright and gaudy—certainly compared to the band’s other releases.

The knock on this record is that it’s a handful of songs too long. That’s a fair point, though I’d argue that its highs more than make up for its lows. And the lows aren’t that bad- it’s just that they’re being held to impossibly high stands. “Mayor of Simpleton” and “The Loving” (written by Colin Moulding) are fantastic. Album closer “Chalkhills and Children” feels woozy and dreamy in equal parts. Like it’s about to wilt in the Tennessee humidity. It’s a last burst of quiet pop perfection and ends the record on a great note.

The line I began with is from “The Mayor of Simpleton,” a track many will tell you is pure pop perfection —and it is. It’s stuffed to the gills with hooks and pop goodness—and it’s not even the poppiest track on the record. That title belongs to “King for A Day” (another Moulding track). King For a Day is happy-go-lucky. It’s bright and sunny- so much so that it comes dangerously close to treacly. It waltzes right up to the line but never crosses it. Instead, we get three and a half minutes of bliss. Enough so that it can even make city driving in Memphis seem okay.

How is it possible that something so effortlessly cool is in the same bracket challenge as Motley Crue? This was the band that your art school friend was tipped off to during a stint as an exchange student. It’s the perfect blend of city pop, jazz, swagger, and Burt Bacharach. There are horns. Synths for days. Timpanis, for god’s sake! “Bellissima 90” practically commands you to strut down the block.

Pizzicato Five maintains some of this cachet simply by making it hard to find their work. For example, most of their discography isn’t available on streaming services; your best bet is YouTube. Even then, the song titles are often in Japanese, which isn’t awesome if you can’t read it. On the one hand, this sucks, as this record is a gateway to what their next few would sound like. On the other, clear those hurdles, and man! You are in for a treat. A wild ride through smooth sounds, city lights, and the rarified air that only the coolest of the cool ever get to walk through.

Note: In 1995, the record was remastered and reissued under the title “By Her Majesty’s Request.”

Bottom Line: Both records are lush soundscapes packed full of pop goodness. if it were up to me, these would’ve been seeded much closer together. I love both and this might be the toughest call to make all week?

My vote: I think lack of name recognition-and accessibility- will be Pizzicato Five’s downfall here. I can’t see ‘em making it past XTC, but won’t be sad if they do. And if just one person becomes a fan of the band after this, it’ll all be worth it. My bracket and vote will both be going to Oranges and Lemons.

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!

Check out the full bracket here.

Info on the tourney, voting, and more is here.

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—