Was Blind Man’s Zoo the Last “Real” 10,000 Maniacs Record?

by KevinLeave a Comment on Was Blind Man’s Zoo the Last “Real” 10,000 Maniacs Record?

The Best Record of 1989: Day 52: #35 10,000 Maniacs, Blind Man’s Zoo vs. #94 Michael Penn, March

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a quick look at records from 10,000 Maniacs and Michael Penn

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d occasionally write 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—

I’ve mentioned it before, but I’ve always associated 10,000 Maniacs’ very specific, very literate sound with universities. And not just any university, but somewhere like Dartmouth (sorry, Hurricane fans). It’s a sound that, to me, has always felt more at home on a campus with a vibrant field hockey program than on the Billboard charts.

The short version of these earlier records is this: a bit of well-styled jangle pop coupled with Natalie Merchant’s gorgeous voice and thoughtful lyrics. That’s the upshot. The downside is that these often leave you feeling like you’re being lectured to. Merchant can come across like that neighbor who’s usually pretty cool, but will also tut-tut you for not composting enough or not having one of those “In This House We Believe…” signs1. Nice enough and well-intentioned, but it can wear thin.

Cueing this up, I wondered if I’d been remembering them in too harsh a light. After all, “These Are the Days” is a song I associate with travel and adventure, thanks to reading Jeff Greenwald’s “The Size of the World.” Maybe I’d been wrong?

The opening track, “Eat For Two,” is about teen pregnancy, so well, no. But that slick, made-for-radio formula is as delicious as I remember it.

Speaking of which, this is the last record that could be classified as janlge pop, and even here, it’s a stretch in places. This is really the jumping-off point for the more refined pop style of Our Time in Eden and everything that came after.

“Trouble Me” is a fine, if unremarkable, bit of ear candy, and I’m starting to wonder (again) if I’m being too harsh on the band. Those doubts vaporize pretty quickly with “You Happy Puppet.” Musically, it’s right up my alley. It’s polished with the sort of sunny grooves I buy in bulk.

And then I make the mistake of pulling up the lyrics, and well:

How did they teach you to be just a happy puppet dancing on a string?
How did you learn everything that comes along with slavish funnery?
Tell me something, if the world is so insane,
Is it making you sane again to let another man tug at the thread that pulls up your nodding head?

Same story with “Headstrong”…

…and “Poison in the Well”…

(sigh).

Stylistically, it is a great transitional record that does well to tie the two on either side of it together. With the benefit of hindsight, the signs are also all there that 10,000 Maniacs is increasingly becoming a Natalie Merchant backing band. Our Time In Eden would seal the deal, even if the timelines don’t match up perfectly.

A couple of songs feel like they go out of their way to be inoffensive (in the same way that same neighbor might start every criticism with something like “I feel like…”, but overall it’s not enough to sink the record. That title goes to the preachy and overbearing lyrics. Blind Man’s Zoo is a solid effort, but one best consumed in small doses.

I’ll be honest here: here’s everything I know about Michael Penn: His brother is Sean Penn (RIP Chris Penn). He’s married to Aimee Mann, and No Myth was inescapable when it came out. That’s it. He was almost a predecessor to Duncan Sheik, if you remember. All signs point to him being an artist I’d be more familiar with, but here we are.

All signs also point to him taking himself too seriously, but I don’t get that impression when I listen to the first few tracks. The ride takes us through a few folk-y ballads and a couple of up-tempo numbers. It’s all well done, but I’m not getting a particularly strong sense of FOMO here. It’s fine that I’ve waited 36(ish) years to hear this…

…and then we get to the closer, “Evenfall,” and man, talk about ending on a high note! This is a rollicking good time, with barrel piano and an ornate section that’ll have you moving in your chair. Now that’s how you close an album! Where was this in ’89?!

My vote: I have a feeling a lot of people are in the same boat as me here (10,000 Maniacs aren’t bad, have only heard the one song by Penn). I will vote mainly on name recognition and Merchant’s voice. I’m still in the bottom third of the rankings in this challenge, and the first rule of getting out of a hole is to stop digging. My bracket pick and vote will both be for Blind Man’s Zoo.

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—

Camper Van Beethoven’s Key Lime Pie Record Is the Story of a Nation Crumbling Under Reagonomics

by KevinLeave a Comment on Camper Van Beethoven’s Key Lime Pie Record Is the Story of a Nation Crumbling Under Reagonomics

The Best Record of 1989 Day 51: #30 Camper Van Beethoven, Key Lime Pie vs. #99 Ice-T, The Iceberg/Freedom of Speech… Just Watch What You Say!

I am incredibly photogenic.

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a quick look at records from Camper Van Beethoven and Ice-T

Growing up, one of the guys on my block lived in a house with a basement. You have to understand that this was relatively unusual in Oregon. You also need to know that it had its own entry, separate from the rest of the house, which, of course, meant it was the default place for all of us to hang out.

All well and good, except that my friend also played guitar. Yeah, that guy. We all know one. Worse, he’d often play it to impress girls on the rare occasion they stopped by. This is how I first heard Camper Van Beethoven’s cover of “Pictures of Matchstick Men.” Not a strong start, but for better or worse, this was the band for me growing up.

This record was also the sound of Camper Van Beethoven growing up—not gracefully, exactly, but white-knuckling it through the end of the 80s like the rest of us. If Our Beloved Revolutionary Sweetheart was the band getting serious, Key Lime Pie is them getting mean; not in a cruel way, but with the kind of sardonic clarity that only comes after you’ve watched the Reaganomics tear apart the American Dream brick by brick.

By 1989, the band was peeling away their own layers. Jonathan Segel was gone. David Lowery had taken the wheel, and the group’s weirdness started to harden into something leaner and a bit darker. The violin remained, but now it ached. The jokes hadn’t vanished, but now, they came with shadows instead of a wink and a nudge. Irony no longer softened the blow; it was the hammer delivering it.

But that’s what makes this record the gem it is. Say what you will about this style shift, but Key Lime Pie is an honest, beautiful, and impossibly human album. The songs aren’t necessarily sad in the normal sense—they’re quietly devastating. It may take a few years and the benefit of hindsight to realize.

Listening feels like looking directly into the souls of people on edge, or even standing at the edge. It can be humbling, and it’s quite a counter to the demanding style of patriotism that was so in vogue.

Musically, Key Lime Pie is a masterclass in restraint. It’s still unmistakably them—strange little chord changes, unexpected melodic sidequests, and eerie violins—but it’s more grounded. Michael Urbano’s drumming is the most conventional thing on the whole record, giving the songs the structure they need. Pedal steel threads through tracks, especially on “Borderline” (my personal favorite) and “Sweethearts.”

And before I forget, the run from “Sweethearts” through “Borderline” is one of the strongest 4-track runs going.

The band sounds tighter, but not sanitized. They’ve ditched the genre-hopping of earlier albums and focused the chaos into something more purposeful. There’s Americana here, but it’s postmodern Americana.

Lyrically, Lowery is at his best here. There’s less snark, more ache. “Sweethearts” paints Ronald Reagan as a puppet for state-sponsored violence and capitalism, but it’s delivered with enough subtlety that you almost miss it.

“When I Win the Lottery” may be the best song ever written about bitterness as a survival strategy. It’s funny, but not ha-ha funny. It’s incredible line-level writing from the POV of someone like the guy at the end of your local bar; the one who’s seen some things.

The whole album walks the line between love and futility, beauty and decay, hope and despair—nihilism. This is a portrait of a broken America song by characters who’ve watched the American Dream collapse under its own weight.

It’s a record about America, sure. But more than that, it’s about people navigating what America does to you. People leaving, people drinking, people stuck in laundromats or backwater towns with only Swap Shop or gospel on the radio. People literally and figuratively stuck on the side of the road. Still, it’s the most empathetic album they ever made (we can use that, too). It doesn’t punch down; instead, it meets its characters where they are.

Despite my less-than-auspicious onramp to the band, this album has never really left my rotation. Very rarely do I play it and not find something new.

You can call it alt-rock, Americana (maybe), or whatever you want—it’s eclectic enough that pretty much anything will fit. But again, it’s just one of the most human records of the year. That sort of thing never goes out of style. It’s always relevant.

Gather ‘round, kids: It’s time to tell you the story of who Fin Tutuola used to be.

Shame that an entire generation only knows Ice-T from his portrayal of a cop on Law & Order. How odd it is to remember that the same guy now flashing a badge used to flout—and run afoul of—the law. This is, after all, a guy who was also almost arrested in Georgia for the high crime of swearing onstage. Such was the climate at the time. It’s all enough to catch a case of the vapors.

In 1989, Ice-T was still a rapper who put hot girls and guns on his covers. He sang songs about power, and how it started “with P like p***sy.” He swore. A lot.

Meanwhile, the Parents Music Resource Center was busy being busybodies and decided that someone should think of the children! Think Maude Flanders but with Congress’s ear. Ice-T made the perfect target. He rapped about all the things supposedly tearing this country apart, and he was popular.

Ice=T wasn’t about to give an inch, and if you were to condense a review of The Iceberg/Freedom of Speech…Just Watch What You Say down to a line or two, it’s that he made a whole-ass record doing just that. It was a baker’s dozen worth of tracks, and all of them were a raised middle finger to anyone with the audacity to decide what was best for anyone.

You can have your endless reruns of Law & Order SVU; I prefer this version of Ice-T.

My vote: Ice-T fought hard against Tipper Gore and co., but he’s no match for David Lowery. It’s Key Lime Pie all day for me.

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—

Discussion: What’re You Listening To?

by KevinLeave a Comment on Discussion: What’re You Listening To?

Good morning! Need an antidote for the algorithms? Looking for a place to share the music you love with like-minded people? You’re in the right spot.

As always, thank you to those who have upgraded your subscriptions this past week. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts all help as well! Thank you!

When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:

I want more music!

On to the music:

For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing.

The playlist below is some of what I’ve had in heavy rotation. This week found me listening to a ton of new (like, brand new) releases from the likes of Immersion, Massage, and The Symptones. Always a good thing!

NOTE: Spotify has been intermittently throwing a “no upstream” code message for the last couple of days. If you’re still seeing it, you can check out the playlist here.

Other sources: Qobuz | YouTube

Now it’s your turn.

What caught your ear this week? Any new releases or shows you’re looking forward to?

Whatcha got? Share your thoughts in the comments!

For The Record-03. August. 2025

by Kevin

Some thoughts on the Billy Joel rock doc, class themes and classism

In high school, I spent most of my time railing against just about anything remotely considered pop music, so it should not surprise you that I was less than pleased when Billy Joel’s “Time to Remember” was nominated for my class’s theme song. That my vote was for Talking Heads’ “Road to Nowhere” should also tell you a lot about what I used to be like.

I mean, we were in Oregon! Indie/Alternative was having a moment, and we were gonna have this? This schmaltzy pop ballad from a mainstream artist?! We might as well have just thrown in a vote for Jack Wagner. Wasn’t Joel someone our parents were into? WTF? The fact that David Byrne is only a couple of years younger than Joel was completely lost on me, which should also tell you something.

And did anyone read the lyrics? It should be clear that they did not.

Billy Joel is all of those things. He is also a lot of other things. He is the living embodiment of multiple things being able to be true at the same time. He was also a lot like me and my circle than I cared to admit, something that I came back to repeatedly while watching And So It Goes.

The rest of this column is currently available for paid subscribers only. You can access the rest with a free one-week trial (email me) or subscribe starting at less than $4 per month for a full year.

I want more music!

Subscribe to continue reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

Queen Latifah Shows She’s Here to Stay, and Violent Femmes Show They Never Left

by KevinLeave a Comment on Queen Latifah Shows She’s Here to Stay, and Violent Femmes Show They Never Left

The Best Record of 1989 Day 50: #62 Violent Femmes, 3 vs. #67 Queen Latifah, All Hail the Queen

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a quick look at records from Violent Femmes & Queen Latifah

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d occasionally write 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 and hot takes are welcome! Sharing and restacks are always appreciated.

In case you missed any from earlier this week:

Day 46: The The’s Mind Bomb vs. the Record Matt Johnson Should’ve Made

Day 47: Grebo vs. Folk? 1989 Truly Had Something For Everyone

Day 48: Fast Jangle Pop Meets Fast…Everything

Day 49: Hey Buddy, Come Anytime

KA—

The pitch: After three years, the Femmes got back together and got back to basics. As good as Hallowed Ground and The Blind Leading the Naked may be, this is a band at its best when it’s stripped down to its core parts. Brian Ritchie’s bass, a quiet beat, and whatever of Gordon Gano’s neuroses he feels like talking about today.

3 (actually the band’s fourth record) starts strong with “Nightmares” and “Just Like My Father.” Deserved or not, Gano always seems like the type of guy we’ll hear about on the 6 o’clock news, invariably with a neighbor describing him as “…nice guy, kept mostly to himself.” Part of that is down to his habit of writing/singing songs from the perspective of some people with, well, some issues. The 1-2 punch of the first two tracks won’t do anything to disabuse people of those notions.

That theme keeps right on going on “World We’re Living In,” with Gano singing:

I can’t go out no more
I just better stay at home
I just better stay all alone
’cause what am I gonna do
if I see someone I’d like to do
something to

“Fool in the Full Moon” might just be the closest thing to a rock song the Femmes ever put to tape. But the rest of it is what most people would come to expect from the band: Gano’s nasally vocals, a mildly chaotic racket, and lyrics that’ll have you singing along until you realize what’s coming out of your mouth.

3 is a fun, enjoyable record. It isn’t quite up to the level of their band’s self-titled classic or even the maudlin atmosphere of Hallowed Ground, but it let everyone know the band was back, and that was enough.

I’ve mentioned it before, but the first time I heard Queen Latifah’s “Dance For Me,” it was thundering out of my friend Kiki’s Honda as he took the corner onto our block at an impossibly high rate of speed.

With A Tribe Called Quest and Jungle Brothers having already dropped releases, it only made sense that another member of the Native Tongues crew would come out, and it was never going to be anyone else but Queen Latifah. And that opening track put everyone on notice that she wasn’t going anywhere.

I’m sure the way I found the record has something to do with it, but to my ear, this LP had an urgency to it. DJ Mark the 45 King put his unique stamp on much of the record, diving deep into the crates, corralling some unruly sounds and reforming them as dance-floor fillers.

This was also the era when MCs became infatuated with house music—sometimes with mixed results. All Hail the Queen is no exception with “Come into My House.” A solid if unremarkable track. And it wouldn’t be a 1989 record without some friends coming along for the ride. Fellow Native Tongues De la Soul are here (“Mama Gave Birth to the Soul Children”) as is KRS-One (“Evil That Men Do”).

The former has something like 14 samples in it-everyone from Otis Redding to Billy Squier. When I said Mark the 45 King dug deep, I wasn’t kidding.

As a whole, All Hail the Queen is solid, but standouts like “Dance For Me” carry a lot of the weight, and trimming a couple of tracks would’ve elevated this from good to great.

My vote: I’m a fan of the Femmes, and the fact that they’re from Milwaukee scores some points for them. Both records are good, neither is great. I went with a nod to my old neighborhood for the tiebreaker, and threw my vote to the woman known to the New Jersey DMV as Dana Owens.

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—

Hey Buddy, Come Anytime

by KevinLeave a Comment on Hey Buddy, Come Anytime

The Best Record of 1989: Day 49: #3 De La Soul, 3 Feet High and Rising vs. #126 Hoodoo Gurus, Magnum Cum Louder

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a quick look at records from De La Soul and Hoodoo Gurus

I should be mad at De La Soul—or at least annoyed. I have a particular distaste for the skits that litter so many hip-hop records, which can be traced back to the band’s 1989 record, 3 Feet High and Rising. That said, while those were often used as filler on other releases, they have a certain charm on this record. I’m still not sold on the idea, but they’re at least tolerable. If nothing else, they’re not distracting from the overall product.

Okay, so that’s the bad part out of the way. Now let’s talk about the good. We can talk about Prince Paul’s touch and how he helped sculpt this into something nothing like what we’d heard before. This and Paul’s Boutique ushered in a new era of layering samples like a collage. Now, instead of an MC and a breakbeat, we had soundscapes. Both of these records influenced countless crews that followed. Why one was a hit out of the blocks and took years to get its due is worth its own discussion.

We can talk about the stylings of Posdnous and Trugoy’s flow and the insistence on bringing concepts like peace and harmony back into the collective discussion. Maybe carve out some time to remember how fun “Me, Myself, and I” felt when it dropped. Posse cuts were de rigueur then, and “Buddy” is one of the best. All of those things are true, and each of them matters.

In our Top 100 series, Sam had this slotted in at #77.

My take then was:

Looking back through admittedly fuzzy memory, in the mid-to-late 80s, everyone I knew had three hip-hop records: Beastie Boys’ License To Ill, Run DMC’s Raising Hell, and this. Only one has a Steely Dan sample, and only one sounds as good now as it did then. “This,” of course, would be 3 Feet High and Rising. It’s the summer of love with some 808, and I’m here for it.

I still am.

I lucked my way into a group of avowed music nerds in school. Finding and sharing new (or at least new to us) music became our raison d’être. This is how Hoodoo Gurus’ Magnum Cum Louder first got onto my radar.

I don’t recall this becoming an obsession with any of us, but instead falling into the “it’s got a couple of great songs” purgatory. Those lucky few wound up circulating on mixtapes, with the rest of the tracks confined to the dustbin of history.

If you’re of a certain age, you know the deal; you bought a record on the strength of a good song over two, and hoped for the best with regard to the rest of the album. In this case, I wouldn’t have felt bad being out $8.99 or whatever the list price was, but I was also happy with just having a copy.

In Magnum Cum Louder’s case, that one good song is “Come Anytime.” About a minute in, I realized I was playing it loud and singing along at equal volume (note: If we happened to have been sharing the ordeal yesterday afternoon, I’m sorry you had to hear that).

It’s as good as ever. The hook…the sing-along chorus…all of it. It does well to set the stage for what’s to come. The next couple of tracks (“Another World,” “Axegrinder”) are also pretty good, even if they don’t quite meet that same high bar. They’re nice enough, but feel like a small step down. Get to about track six and realize it’s more of the same. It’s a nice “same,” —” Shadow Me” and “All the Way” in particular— but a same nonetheless.

Magnum Cum Louder is, of course, a play on the term Magnum cum laude, which is a fancy way of adding a “better than average” rider to a degree or diploma. It seems aspirational here, especially when stacked up against the rest of the discography.

A few tweaks here and there might’ve earned it a legit shot at that distinction.

My vote: 3 Feet High and Rising changed the game. Magnum Cum Louder barely caused a ripple in my suburban friend group. It’d be a much tougher call if we were going on the strength of “Come Anytime” alone, but we’re not.

It’s the D.A.I.S.Y. Age for the win.

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—

Grebo vs. Folk? 1989 Truly Had Something For Everyone

by KevinLeave a Comment on Grebo vs. Folk? 1989 Truly Had Something For Everyone

The Best Record of 1989: Day 47: #23 Indigo Girls, Indigo Girls vs. #106 Jesus Jones, Liquidizer

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at records from Jesus Jones and Indigo Girls

One of the fun things about this challenge is revisiting records I haven’t listened to since the first Clinton Administration and learning new things. It does a cynical heart good.

For instance, I had no idea that “Grebo” was a genre, with bands like PWEI, EMF, and Ned’s Atomic Dustbin. It also turns out I’m a fan of it. Who knew?

There’s also Jesus Jones- another band I listened to early and often back in the day, and then forgot about. Besides Right Here/Right Now (which you can hear on pretty much any ’90s hour on the radio), listening to anything else is something bordering on an annual event. Usually, that involves either “Trust Me” (from Doubt) or “Never Enough” (from this record) popping in my head, me thinking “Oh yeah, I should totally play that!,” doing so, and then forgetting it happened for another 364ish days.

So Grebo was a short-lived genre, and each of these tracks feels very much of that (narrow) place and time. The good news is that it was a thrilling time, and the sound here reflects that; it’s kinetic, busy, and confident. The songs all kinda sound alike, but it’s okay because the song rips. Check out “Move Mountains,” “Never Enough,” “All the Answers” and “Info Freako” if pressed for time.

Like PWEI, the sound can be summed up thusly: throw a bunch of genres (industrial, techno, power pop) in a blender. Set to puree. Add samples to taste. Serve immediately.

Mike Edwards’s full-throttle vocals can get old, but they seem oddly endearing in the context of the time. There’s maybe a “Yeaaaah!” too many in every song, but that’s okay. It’s been long enough between listens that I don’t mind it today. To my ear, the record itself holds up, but at least some of that is down to the influence of spins.

Nevertheless.

“Right Here Right Now” casts a long shadow and unfairly saddles the band with the one-hit-wonder tag. Liquidizer itself was unfairly cast aside, a victim of Doubt’s success. An innovative record at the time, it deserves more credit than it gets

This is Jesus Jones on the way up before peaking with Doubt and then crashing out in spectacular fashion with the god-awful Perverse. Liquidizer is their least polished and most alternative, and it’s all the better for that rawness.

Going from the kinetic chaos of Liquidizer to the soulful folk of Indigo Girls felt the way it does when you exit the freeway and go from 70-80 mph back to 35. I really should’ve given things a minute to settle instead of immediately jumping in.

The upside is that the first song is the sublime “Closer to Fine.” It’s also the only song I can credibly claim to have heard before this morning. Like Jesus Jones, the duo of Amy Ray and Emily Sailers have been unfairly cursed with one outsized hit overshadowing much of, well, pretty much everything they’ve done since.

This is their major label debut. It has a basic (not derogatory) sound and an earnestness worlds away from Liquidizer’s winking cynicism. Ray and Seiler’s voices blend beautifully, and the guitar work is clean and out front.

I was happily surprised to hear Michael Stipe providing backing vocals on “Kid Fears.” It turns out the other 3/4 of R.E.M. show up on “Tried to be True,” which unsurprisingly became my favorite track on the reocrd.

This record was more intense than I’d assumed it would be. There’s an occasional edge I wasn’t expecting. It’s nice to hear some drums, ya know? Overall, it’s a solid record, top-heavy with an opener that is still their biggest hit. One could do worse than having “Closer to Fine” as your legacy. But like Jesus Jones, Indigo Girls have made an impact far larger than you’d assume if only looking at their chart record.

My vote: My heart is all in on Liquidizer. My head thinks that people will only remember “Right Here, Right Now,” and “Closer to Fine,” and will choose the latter thinking it’s a better look. My bracket pick is for Indigo Girls but I will be once again voting against my own interests and going for Jesus Jones.

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 The’s Mind Bomb and the Record Matt Johnson Should’ve Made

by KevinLeave a Comment on The The’s Mind Bomb and the Record Matt Johnson Should’ve Made

The Best Record of 1989 Day 46: #55 Pop Will Eat Itself, This Is the Day…This Is the Hour…This is This! vs. #74 The The, Mind Bomb

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at records from The The and Pop will Eat Itself

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d occasionally write 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—

Let’s be clear: I love The The’s Infected. Anything after that was going to be measured against an unfairly high bar. That album was a brick thrown through the window of polite 1980s pop — angry, theatric, and intelligent. But this one? It’s less of an explosion and more of a slow burn.

There’s no denying Matt Johnson’s ambition here — it practically bleeds through the speakers. He’s reaching for something here, but that “something” is never really clear. Instead, we get an album that feels pulled in too many directions at once, as if Johnson’s trying to mesh together the raw energy of Soul Mining with the electricity of Infected.

Enter Johnny Marr, who finally joins Johnson after years of near-misses and what-ifs. This should have been a summit of two great minds. Instead, it often sounds like two auteurs trying not to step on each other’s toes. There’s tension, yes — but not always the kind that results in a better outcome. I can appreciate Marr being mindful that he’s a guest, but still…

And yet. And yet! The record refuses to be boring. The opener is a mission statement in miniature — nearly seven minutes long, stitched with the muezzin’s call to prayer, defiant in its refusal to meet the listener halfway. Elsewhere, an operatic chorus materializes, not so much sung as summoned. It’s a fever dream of a record.

But then come the two high points. With Sinéad O’Connor at her best, Kingdom of Rain is a slow-burn implosion — a duet that aches with every note. It’s the kind of song you don’t play often, not because it isn’t brilliant, but because you can’t bear it. This kind of track leaves you reaching for the rocks glass and staring out the nearest window. Then there’s The Beat(en) Generation, a near-perfect piece of pop cynicism. The message is one of glances askance: “The beaten generation/reared on a diet of prejudice and misinformation.” Ain’t that the truth! I know I just got done talking about how different it was from Infected, and how that might not’ve been a good move, but man, I loved this song. And at the risk of carbon dating myself, I bought it on cassingle. I think I still have it?

Infected was a declarative statement. This album is decidedly less so. Johnson may have been just as intent here, but things occasionally get lost in the delivery.

Some bands evolve. Pop Will Eat Itself detonated.

After Box Frenzy — a chaotic mess that sounded like PWEI cosplaying as the Beastie Boys, it would’ve been easy to write them off as a novelty act. But then came This Is the Day… This Is the Hour… This Is This! — and everything changed. Turns out the joke was on us.

The not-so-secret weapon here is Flood. Fresh from manning the boards for Depeche Mode and Nitzer Ebb, he turned PWEI’s unruly collage of pop culture fragments into something cohesive and forward-looking. This album doesn’t play like a follow-up — it plays like a totally different band.

I won’t pretend the members of PWEI had any kind of bars—half the time, they’re rapping like they’re on a sugar high, but that’s part of the charm. They weren’t trying to emulate U.S. hip hop; they were squishing it into their version of British pop with metal riffs, breakbeats, horror movie samples (and an LL Cool J sample, FWIW). The result is a record that feels like channel-surfing through the late ’80s zeitgeist.

The singles still hold up, but what really elevates the album for me is its surprising depth. Between the neon and noise, there’s hints of a darker, moodier version of PWEI. Tracks like “Inject Me” and “Wake Up! Time to Die” are definitely not party tracks, suggesting a band more self-aware than they were ever given credit for.

This is The Day… is the record Matt Johnson should’ve made. So yes, dig it out of the cutout bin and give it a spin. Honestly, it never sounded better.

My vote: I wanted to like Mind Bomb when it came out. I loved (!) The Beat(en) Generation, but there rest of it never really landed with me. As noted above, I’m sure some of that is the unfair comparison to Infected. It is what it is. Meanwhile, PWEI did the opposite; they followed up a mediocre record with one hitting on all cylinders. My bracket pick and vote will be going to PWEI.

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—

Discussion: What’re You Listening To?

by KevinLeave a Comment on Discussion: What’re You Listening To?

Good morning! Need an antidote for the algorithms? Looking for a place to share the music you love with like-minded people? You’re in the right spot.

As always, thank you to those who have upgraded your subscriptions this past week. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts all help as well! Thank you!

When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:

I want more music!

On to the music:

For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing.

The playlist below is some of what I’ve had in heavy rotation. This week found me listening to a ton of new (like, brand new) releases from the likes of Freezing Cold, Old Moon, and Smut. Always a good thing!

Now it’s your turn.

What caught your ear this week? Any new releases or shows you’re looking forward to?

Whatcha got? Share your thoughts in the comments!