Tag: 80s music

Best Record of 1989: Day 10

by KevinLeave a Comment on Best Record of 1989: Day 10

Mudhoney’s self-titled record takes on Robyn Hitchcock & The Egyptians’ Queen Elvis

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at Mudhoney’s self-titled release (#57) as it squares off again Queen Elvis by Robyn Hitchcock and The Egyptians (#72)

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—

On day 4, we covered Screaming Trees, and here we are less than a week later in the Emerald City. As a PDX native, this is not my favorite place. As a music fan, I’m willing to overlook some things.

The reality is that Mudhoney—or rather, Mark Arm — had a hand in a lot of the bands we all know and love. In the 80s and 90s, the overlap in personnel was common. Many people were in the same bands. You sometimes needed a scorecard to keep track at home. Arm was in more than a couple, including Green River, which gave way to Mudhoney, but also Mother Love Bone, Temple of the Dog, and more. Jeff Ament and Stone Gossard were there. I wonder what ever happened to them? I hope they’re still playing somewhere.

They went one way, and Arm went another. There was Mudhoney, and there was this record —a bar-burner of white-hot rock ‘n’ roll. There’s some psych here. Some punk. Some metal. It sounds like every opening band that ever played a sweaty club with low ceilings and a sound tech learning the ropes— and I 100% mean that in the best way possible,

“Flat Out F*cked” drops the hammer and never lets up. It’s an insistent piledriver that dares you not to sing along. “Get Into Yours” sounds like every song we’d hear from out on the street if we were late getting to a show. This is an admittedly clunky description, but one I hope both makes sense and is relatable. It’s also high praise. “Here Comes Sickness” has an infectious, scuzzy groove.

With maybe the exception of “Come To Mind,” the whole record goes on like this. It’s a one-note recording, but it never gets old.

The guitars and Arm’s vocals are out front here, but to discount the rhythm section of Matt Lukin (yes, the same Lukin PJ named a song after) and Dan Peters would be a disservice. Someone had to keep things tethered to the Earth.

Some groups aspire to a higher calling. They write records they hope will change the world. This record isn’t trying to do anything of the sort.; it’s just trying to have a good time.

It’s trying to rock — and that’s exactly what it does.

Remember when you were a kid, and your parents would try to get you to taste new food? It’s got everything you like in it! they’d plead, while you sat there with your arms crossed. Just take a bite! You’ll see.

And it’s true that you likely would’ve liked whatever it was on the plate in front of you. But for whatever reason, that wasn’t the day. Maybe you’d eventually come around. Perhaps you never would.

A few years would go by, and instead of food and your parents, it would be your friends and an artist.

And yet

This record is great! They’d say. It’s got intelligent lyrics and wry humor! They’re on top of some of the sunniest, jangly music going! There’s a video on 120 Minutes! It’s got everything you like! The record would be Robyn Hitchcock & The Egyptians’ Queen Elvis….and I still wasn’t biting (heh).

Look, there is nothing wrong with this record. It’s objectively good! It’s generally regarded as one of the best in his extensive discography. It’s extremely British. It was quirky before that became a thing.

Lyrics like this from Devil’s Coachman are the sort of thing I would’ve pored over:

I remember everything as if it happened years ago
Probably it did, so I remember it
You are just your feelings. It might give you vertigo
Falling off a high place and into it
And I was into you

And yet.

“Madonna of the Wasps “is an excellent peek at the sort of thing 120 Minutes might expose you to. For many people, I suspect this was their on-ramp to Hitchcock, doubly so if you lived somewhere with cable but without a decent college radio station. Listening to the record ahead of this, I wondered if that’s how whoever nominated this first found him.

“Freeze” is a track I genuinely dig. It’s about as hard as things get on the album. There are bits of horns, too, which I always dig. No less than REM’s Peter Buck makes a balance here. Another thing I like.

And yet.

Bottom Line: Rooting for my Pacific Northwest homeland can make for strange bedfellows. Sometimes it even means rooting for a band from Seattle. Mudhoney it is.

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 9

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best record of 1989: Day 9

NWA’s Straight Outta Compton vs. Inner City’s Paradise

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at N.W.A.’s Straight Outta Compton (#8) and Inner City’s Paradise (#121)

Note: As many of you saw, 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 match up 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 be a few typos.

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

KA—

Portland has an NBA team but no NFL or NHL teams. Most people pick one based on proximity; thus, lots of Seahawks and 49ers fans. In 1989, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think everyone was an LA Kings or Raiders fan. Those hats with their distinctive script and Starter jackets were everywhere. And it was all down to NWA. We were nowhere near South Central, but you coulda fooled me. That fashion—and this record— were inescapable.

So why was a record about the gritty life in LA so popular in suburban Portland? Good question. The easy answer is that the sound was novel, and it sounded hella good coming out of our car speakers. Looking at the record through a clinical lens, the sound was new, the flow was different from what we knew, and the beats were 10/10.

There were larger cultural forces at play, of course. There is a point where kids rebel against whatever structures are in place: school, social systems, whatever. This was also the era of white paranoia, the explosion of the prison industrial complex, and Willie Horton. Tipper Gore was peaking. Parents were freaking out, and we were here for it. A few years earlier, we’d had the satanic panic; now it was hip hop’s turn in the barrel.

On a local level, law enforcement shifted from a community policing model (the one where cops would hand out Trailblazer trading cards) to a much more militarized version. Regular uniforms were out in favor of military ones. In my part of the world, they overindexed on firepower, too. It was not unusual for them to now show up at the basketball courts with assault rifles. Again, this was suburban Portland. It was absurd, and we (rightfully) bristled against it. To have an anthem like “Fuck Tha Police” was catnip, and we all ate it up. At one point, I saw a map of Compton in someone’s locker. Like a literal paper map. I wish I were kidding.

Back to the record itself for a second:

When writing up Dr. Dre’s The Chronic I mentioned that

listening to his record through a 2024 lens isn’t easy. There’s a reason every track has an “explicit” label. The N-word is used liberally. The F-word is used like a comma. It’s snarling. It’s misogynistic. It’s…all the things, and I wouldn’t dare try to excuse, rationalize, or explain away any of it. It is what it is. Listen at your own risk…and maybe not at work.

That said, this was a record that literally everyone I knew had a copy of; the wannabe gangsters at my school, the jocks, the heads, and everyone in between. And we were listening to it on repeat. It’s been over 30 years since I’ve played this front to back, and I can remember almost every word— and I’m at that point where I spend a lot of my days looking for my glasses only to realize I’m wearing them.

Same goes in 2025 and for this record.

Straight Outta Compton is a look into a world that many of us will never see, and many others wish they could escape. Where earlier records had reflected the realities of this, like gang violence and misogyny, Straight Outta Compton glorified them.

And then there is the uncomfortable truth that this was a bot of socioeconomic voyeurism. A bit of ghetto tourism, if you will. America is very good at squirreling away its more unpleasant realities and keeping up appearances. This record ripped the lid off the reality of life in a place like Compton and put it all on display. There is, of course, some poetic license and a bit of aggrandizement in play. Was Ice Cube really gonna cook people up like gumbo? I doubt it, but the wordplay was on point).

It was all edgy and dangerous…and we could all visit that world without ever having to leave our very safe reality.

Perversely, the howls of protest from adults about the record proved the point NWA was trying to make. White America focused on how the message was delivered (profane, vulgar) and not the meaning behind the lyrics and the statements they were making. It was all a deflection of attention—a jingling of keys distracting us from the real issue. For our part, we were distracted by beats and the thrill of hearing taboo subjects being rapped about.

The members of the group eventually went their separate ways to varying degrees of success, but the marks they left were indelible. This was a statement record, a proclamation that they were here, and an indictment against any sucka who tried to say otherwise.

There’s a popular meme going around that reads “still punk AF as I…(insert something very not punk here). My contribution to the canon was that I was still punk AF as I turned down the car stereo so I could see better.

Sometimes, I wonder if there’s a hip-hop version. Was Ice Cube still gangster AF when he acted in “Are We There Yet?”? Yeah, probably.

Much like The Chronic, Straight Outta Compton upended an entire genre, carved another one out in gangster rap, and put Compton on the map.

Looking at this bracket, there are a few records that left me wondering, “How did this make the cut?!” A few others have left me wondering: How did I miss this? To be fair, The preliminary list of submissions for this bracket clocks in at just over 700 entries. Something slipping through the cracks was bound to happen.

Inner City’s Paradise is squarely in the latter category. For all of the punk and hardcore I was listening to, I was also spending a good bit of time listening to dance, techno, and house.

Before this, Kevin Saunderson’s main claim to fame was being part of the Belleville Three and being one of the originators of Detroit techno, referred to as such (as opposed to Detroit House) to distinguish it from Chicago house. I’m telling you, midwest rivalries run deep.

At any rate, Saunderson and vocalist Paris Grey teamed up, and the result is Paradise. Not to get too far into the weeds here, but Detroit techno differs from the Second City in a few ways; it’s a little more stripped down, with the instrumentation more rapid-fire and the beats more strident.

Similarly, a lot of tech records are best suited for after sunset. The association with the club is too much to overcome. Dusting off of a 12″ midday on a Sunday isn’t always the first thought that comes to mind. Paradise was one you could play. Grey’s vocals lend a brighter feel to it all (not as in disposition, as in “feels okay to play at 11 AM). There are faces on the album cover instead of a plain white or black sleeve.

Furthermore, this was a stylistic departure from the Detroit techno scene. The instrumentals are warmer. The concept of futurism is never far away in this genre, but here, that sterile vision of tomorrow comes up against things like string arrangements and warm synths. Even the drum machines take an occasional breather.

Again- another difference is that the genre is still built mainly on the 12″ single or SoundCloud download. Inner City made an entire record of techno tracks, and one I’ve found myself listening to repeatedly over the last few days.

With the benefit of hindsight, I can hear Inner City’s influence on many groups that came after them. This feels like a record that should be in the crate of any self-respecting DJ, and now, it needs to be in mine as well.

Bottom Line: That both of these records are/were influential isn’t up for debate. The ripple effects of Paradise can be felt far and wide, and no one should doubt the role Straight Outta Compton played in hip-hop culture and the larger cultural discussion. That said, I have to think name recognition will carry NWA here (I mean, it is #8 vs #121). If Inner City pulls it off, that’ll be one for the record books. And hey, my bracket’s trash anyway, so why not?

For me, the word “best” is doing a lot of work in this tourney. As I consider(ed) which way to go in a given match, I thought about the objective quality of the record (obvs), but also the aftershocks it set off, the wider ramifications in the industry, etc.

Taking all of that into consideration, it’s got to be NWA.

Vote & bracket pick: NWA’s Straight Outta Compton

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—

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The Best Record of 1989: Day 8

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 8

Weird Al’s UHF takes on 11 by The Smithereens

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at Weird Al Yankovic’s UHF – Original Motion Picture Soundtrack and Other Stuff (#48) as he takes on 11 by The Smithereens (#81)

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—

I want to preface this by adding a few points for context. First, writing humor is hard. Like, really hard. If you think it’s not, just try it and show your work to a couple of friends. See what happens. Anyone who can do it once is worth noting—anyone who can do it for four decades plus is nothing short of amazing.

Weird Al‘s parody songs have delighted generations of fans, and it won’t be me that says anything bad about that.

UHF (the movie) was itself a parody- a parody of all the bad TV we used to be subjected to, where the channels were still changed by hand via a clunky dial. Before there were 57 channels and nothing on. It’s a fun enough premise and the sort of film you might’ve watched on a Saturday afternoon when it was pouring with rain. Yankovic plays a schlub who gets a job running a TV station his uncle won in a card game. Michael Richards plays one of the main characters. Hijinks ensue!

My second point? I have a very low capacity for humor in music. I’ve never gotten the appeal of a novelty band like Ween, and don’t get me started on that fistful of late 90s/early 00’s groups whose whole mission was to make “Zany” a new sub-genre. That goes double for all the ska groups that tried. Christ, some of that was interminable.

There’s none of that pretense here. The value prop with Weird Al is that he’s gonna take a song you love, and tweak the lyrics just enough to make you laugh. Maybe there’ll be enough of us smirking to make it a hit. There’ll be a metric ton of puns, some wordplay, and a liberal dose of accordion—all part of the schtick, and all good things.

The UHF soundtrack is no exception. There’s a take on Dire Straits’ “Money for Nothing” that’s solid. Ditto the spoof of Fine Young Cannibals’ “She Drives Me Crazy.”

Among a few of my friends, Spatula City was an inside joke for so long that it had morphed into something unrecognizable —one of those things that would be impossible to reverse engineer.

And hey, Yankovic’s songs are cool…the first time you hear them. But for me, they’re like a Carolina Reaper or Dave’s Insanity Sauce; you really only need to try them once every few years.

Speaking of movies, the title of The Smithereens’ 3rd record was actually a nod to Spinal Tap (as in “This one goes up to 11”). I am not entirely sure that’s true, but I’ve heard it enough over the years to think it might be. Besides, I want to believe it, so…

Even if you don’t recognize the record, you’ll likely recognize “A Girl Like You,” which cracked the Top 40. That was supposedly written for the movie Say Anything, but didn’t make the cut. Just imagine Lloyd Dobler blasting that out of his boombox instead of Peter Gabriel’s ‘In Your Eyes.’

Woulda, coulda, shoulda.

That song would be their biggest hit, and it would be easy to assume that every track went as hard as it did. But the band owes much more to pop bands than rock bands. There are family-sized riffs and plenty of power chords, but those are balanced with plaintive lyrics and plenty of catchy choruses purpose-built for singing along. I wrote a whole ass love letter to Ed Stasium about his treatment of The Replacements’ Tim LP, and his touch behind the boards here is just as on point.

You get “A Girl Like You,” but also tracks like “Baby Be Good” (this writer’s fave on the record), and “Maria Elna,” which would be equally at home on a Gin Blossoms record.

Anyway, like Weird Al, the value prop with the Smithereens is simple; you get Mack truck-sized riffs, a groove so in the pocket, you owe it some change, and Pat DiNizio’s vocals. With 11, you get a record that is best enjoyed loud.

Bottom Line: My streak of playing the odds on my brackety and voting with my heart aligning was short-lived. But hear me out here: Somehow, Weird Al made the cut to get into this tourney. Do enough people actually like this record for it to be taken seriously, or was it, well, a parody of sorts? When making my picks, I went with the former. Each had to meet a threshold of votes to be invited to the dance, and I just can’t see there being a viable path to collusion. Maybe there’s an inside joke from previous tourneys that I’ve missed. I dunno. Either way, once again, my bracket pick is for one record, and my vote will be for another.

Head: Weird Al

Heart: The Smithereens

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—