On the Silver Jews’ 4th record, David Berman turns country influence into something wry, spare, and strangely intimate.
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a quick look at Silver Jews’ Bright Flight
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
David Berman strikes me as someone who could spend a week fussing over a line or turn of phrase, the kind of writer who sets an impossibly high bar for himself and then plays it off, trying to convince the world none of it matters. That contradiction is at the fore on Bright Flight, a record made in Nashville, a city fueled today by polish and sounds ready-made for radio by people whose idea of a pickup is an $80,000 monstrosity that never leaves the pavement. This is not Berman’s Nashville, and these are not his people. He’s much more at home among the rogues’ gallery of characters in the city’s underbelly, yet his lyrical skill is as good as anyone at the song factory that dots the city.
The record is filled with stories that are relatable and ones that likely only make sense in his head. Put simply, these are some of the best words he ever put to paper. Listening to a Silver Jews record always feels a little voyeuristic, like we’ve swiped his journal and are reading by flashlight.
Musically, this is one of the most spare records he put to tape. That’s by design. In Berman’s world, “going country” isn’t about big sounds or high production. Everything has an intentionally amateur quality to it; there’s some dirt on the lens. It’s also the first Silver Jews album on which his wife, Cassie, makes an appearance.
Nashville has certainly left its mark. “Run Away with Me, Darlin’” is country 101, and “Tennessee” meets the textbook definition, but only someone like him could drop a line like “Come to Tennessee / ’Cause you’re the only 10 I see” and not have me spraining my eyes from rolling them too hard. His cover of “Friday Night Fever” is far enough removed from George Strait’s original that you’d be excused for not knowing it wasn’t an original.
We all know how this story ends, but before Berman’s mid-air breakup, Bright Flight gave us some of the finest Silver Jews songs to date.
Bottom Line:Bright Flight is up against Princess Superstar’s Is, another artist I’d never heard of, and whose record turned out to be a godamned delight. My bracket pick went to Silver Jews, but tbh, had I listened to Is ahead of time, you might’ve been reading a different sentence. Either way, either of these will be fun to talk about in Round 2.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Today we’re taking a look at Fugazi’s The Argument and it faces off against Word of Mouf by Ludacris.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
If ever there was a tale of two records, this is it. On the one hand, you have Fugazi. As I’ve noted before,
Some records change your life, but rarely does a band come along that changes the way you live. Fugazi did both. In an era when selling out was still a four-letter word, the band did what they did best: they lived their lives on their terms. They could make a compelling case for why you should be on their team, but if you weren’t, that was okay, too. It was a big tent, and their live-and-let-live mindset was a far cry from the straight-edge kids who had teased those threads to their extreme and spent shows looking for drinks to knock out of people’s hands.
Speaking of those shows, the band capped admission at $5 and insisted they be all-ages. I imagine that eventually paid off in the form of increased record sales, but they left a lot of money on the table then. Same with shying away from selling merch and staying on their homegrown Dischord label. Respect and street cred are all well and good, but they don’t pay the rent. But here’s the thing: that DIY ethic wasn’t just a gimmick for Fugazi; it was everything. When one of your songs has a chorus that screams, “You are not what you own,” selling t-shirts becomes a little tricky.
The band held themselves to a high ethical standard, and none of it would’ve mattered if the music wasn’t any good.
But about those records…
You should know that my favorite Fugazi record is whichever one I happen to be listening to when asked. There are highs and lows in any catalog, but in this case, it’s really all relative.
Some make you angry, some pump you up, and some lean more introspective. The Argument is one of the rare records that can survive that kind of whiplash. Fugazi’s sixth and (probably, but hopefully not) final album is hugely underrated, and it feels like the band finding a way to level up every part of their sound without losing the ingrained angst that made them so great in the first place.
Recorded at Inner Ear with Don Zientara and the band in early 2001, The Argument is a very different kind of Fugazi record than the post-hardcore they spent much of the ’90s perfecting. There’s no equivalent to “Break In” here. The distortion is dialed back, and there’s less screams (If that’s what you’re after, I have good news: “Full Disclosure” is right up your alley).
Want an oddly eerie/oddly infectious guitar line? “Life and Limb” has you covered. That doesn’t mean they softened or softened their take on the world around them. Every part of what made Fugazi special is still here: the off-kilter riffs, the dub-heavy rhythm section, the vocal interplay between MacKaye and Picciotto; really, the ability to splice together different genres and make the whole thing sound easy. Again, nothing new for the band at this point. But on The Argument, all of it sounds sharpened and more practiced.
“Epic Problem” is as explosive as anything on Margin Walker or 13 Songs, and is right in the overlap of the “Dissonant” and “Melodic” Venn diagram of their sound. How they do this, I have no idea; I just know it works. It’s all part of what makes them so addictive. Ditto “Strangelight,” which moves from a slightly disorienting rhythm toward a more sweeping one at the end.
“Oh,” might be the best example of how far Fugazi could stretch without breaking. As far as I know, it’s the only track where Ian, Guy, and Joe all sing (happy to stand corrected if I’m off here!), and they picked a track with some call-and-response drama. Those signs of evolution/progress are all over this album. Like they’re finally ready to try some things they know they couldn’t have pulled off earlier in their careers. And it all makes for one of–if not the- best Fugazi releases.
Look, like everyone else, I would have loved more Fugazi records, but if The Argument is the last we’ll see of ‘em, at least they did it right. I’d rather they went out riding high than with something half-baked just for a little cash. Who could fault ‘em for that?
Speaking of which…
At the other end of the spectrum, we have Ludacris. In real life, I work for a Fortune 100 company, and our CEO sees himself as much more hip than he actually is. You know the type: the guy that wears $1500 tailored suits but pairs ‘em with Vans. He also likes to trot out the fact that he was a roadie decades ago and shows up at SXSW. Which, I mean, Ok. The C-suite! They’re just like us! Sure, Jan. What it really leaves is an overpowering “how do you do, fellow kids” vibe.
We also have an annual celebration in Atlanta. This is really a corporate event disguised as a county fair, and, well, I bring all of this up to mention that Ludacris has played this sort of thing at least twice. “Sellout” used to be a four-letter word back in the day, but with time, age, and change, I’ve softened on that a little bit. But I have a hard time reconciling the idea that he’s singing and dancing for the same people who constantly apply downward pressure to my career.
Look, I have no issue with Luda getting the bag. If they’re paying, and he wants to play, so be it! But I don’t have to like it. He might have hoes in every area code, but you only need to go to one—the 404—to see how low he’ll go for a dollar.
Bottom Line: Fugazi. all day, every 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!
Today we’re taking a look at Weezer’s Green album as it takes on Melody A.M. by Röyksopp.
In my head, every Weezer fan is one of these two people. Reductive? Maybe. Accurate, probably.
At any rate…
At the risk of great bodily harm, here’s my tl;dr: Weezer didn’t follow up Pinkerton so much as they ran as fast as they could away from it. This was a good thing.
After the (at best) confused reaction to their 1996 album, Rivers Cuomo and co. went back to the drawing board and reeled things back. The Green Album plays like something of a reset button, a record built to avoid risk at all costs, and one meant to make you forget Pinkerton ever happened. No oversharing from Cuomo or blood-on-the-page type lyrics. No big swings, sound-wise. Instead, we got ten clean, efficient power pop songs that stick to the formula and rarely step outside it.
And for the most part, the plan works.
Clocking in at just under 30 minutes, the record is as streamlined as Weezer ever sounded. Crunchy mid-tempo riffs, stacked harmonies, and guitar solos that mirror the vocal melodies almost exactly. It is tight, polished, and an easy listen. You can hear the influences, too: bright 60s-style vocal hooks sitting atop thicker, fuzzed-out 70s guitar tones. Again, this is the band’s stock in trade, but they’re talented enough that it never feels derivative.
The album peaks early. “Hash Pipe,” “Island in the Sun,” and “Crab” are one of the best three-song runs in the band’s catalog. “Hash Pipe” brings a thick, sleazy riff with just enough bite to give the record some edge. “Island in the Sun” is the opposite; loose, warm, and about as effortlessly catchy as anything they have written. IOW, it’s a weapons-grade earworm. It was in ’01, and it still is in ’26, at least for me, anyway. “Crab” keeps things moving without losing momentum, sticking to the same structure and sticking the landing. I was too lazy to look, but if that was a single, I’m surprised it didn’t fare better. If it wasn’t, I’d be curious to know why.
Either way, that stretch does a lot of the heavy lifting here.
From there, the album settles in, and, well, kinda settles. Nothing falls apart, but not much pushes forward either. Cuomo had traded that raw, uncomfortable writing of Pinkerton for lighter, more surface-level lyrics. Again, that makes for an easy listen, a pleasant one, even. But it also opens the door to monotony, which the back side of the record comes perilously close to. If this is your thing, it’s a bunch of what you love. If it’s not, it can all feel like one big amorphous blob. The band deserves kudos for that consistency, but it comes with a cost. The songs start to blur together, built from the same pieces and delivered in the same way.
Still, I have to think that was the point.
The Green Album is Weezer playing it safe and doing it with discipline. Every choice feels controlled, from the short runtime to the repeated song structures. It makes for a smooth, no-frills listen that never overstays its welcome. You can throw it on, let it run, and not think too hard about it. If this had gotten stuck in my car’s CD player, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world.
If viewed as a comeback record, it does the job. This course correction set Weezer back on track for the next several releases. The highs hit, and even the lows never drag things down. The whole thing moves quickly. Sure, the whole record leans heavily on those three standout tracks rather than the full tracklist, but that trio is strong enough to keep it in rotation.
This is not Weezer at their most ambitious or creative, and in the end, that was the right move. It is Weezer keeping things simple, keeping things clean, and getting back on track.
Bottom Line: Weezer’s up against Röyksopp’s Melody A.M., a pleasant enough record. There were parts that screamed “sync music” to me, but also some total delights like “Eple.” In the end, I can’t see it coming out on top here, but that’s down more to an unfair seeding/match up than anything else. Given a lower ranked/lesser-regarded opponent, it’s easy to see a scenario where this sails through. There’ll be some less deserving records that go through to round 2
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!
Best Record of 2001: Day 24- Basement Jaxx vs. Sophie Ellis-Bextor
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at Rooty by Basement Jaxx as it faces off against Read My Lips from Sophie Ellis-Bextor.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Basement Jaxx- Rooty
I’m gonna carbon-date myself here, but there used to be a time when you could buy ringtones for your phone. There was a whole-ass marketplace that sprung up selling (first) 8-bit interpretations of these, and then actual clips of songs or sounds themselves for your flip phone. Was this legal? Beats me, but 25 years ago this was cutting-edge stuff. I did this exactly twice: one was for “One Step Beyond” by Madness and was relatively short-lived. That was replaced by Basement Jaxx’s “Where’s Your Head At?” and it stayed until I got rid of the phone.
Let’s get that one out of the way first: it’s still catchy AF, sounds as good in the club as it does coming out of your car speakers (or phone), etc. Oh, and it samples not one, but two Gary Numan songs. So yeah, 11/10. No notes.
For those that don’t know: this is my kind of house. Think more big, bouncy beats and less bleep-bloop type stuff. It’s usually right in the pocket BPM-wise, and if there’s any sampling, it over-indexes on soul, early R&B, or disco. In other words, it sounds like it’s coming from the future but with a ton of retro pop flavor. That’s some serious dissonance, but when it works, it works.
That’s a good chunk of this record—specifically “Where’s Your Head At,” “Jus 1 Kiss,” and “Get Me Off.” “Do Your Thing” is a little acid house with a really cool jazzy piano and vocal that will remind you of Moby before he decided to double down on being weird (in the studio and real life). Those four alone should be enough to get this through to round two.
Other tracks are a little too chopped up for my taste (looking at you, “Crazy Girl”), but zooming out, I get why people dig them.
And just when you think Rooty can do no wrong, we… get interludes. For those that don’t know, these are one of my pet peeves. I know this was still the early days of CDs, and artists/labels felt like they had to fill that space to justify the extra cost, but no one wanted these. There’s no value add in tracks like “Kissalude” or “Freakalude” other than juicing the track count. These mar what is otherwise a killer record.
I know they usually wipe phones before reselling them, but I’d like to think they missed this with mine and someone, in some corner of the world, charged it up, got it ready to go, and then had their mind blown on that first incoming phone call.
Sophie Eliis-Bextor- Read My Lips
One of the knocks against Basement Jaxx is that they tried to be too much and delved into too many genres. One of the knocks against Read My Lips is that it doesn’t go far enough. Fair enough. This record is solid, if unremarkable, dance pop. It’s the sort of thing you’d hear in the lobby of a downtown Marriott. It’s energetic but never distracting. I will say that I was stoked to see Gregg Alexander had his hand in this record. The New Radicals frontman’s second life as a writer/producer doesn’t get nearly enough attention. Also, “Move This Mountain” has bells in it—something that’s almost always a plus in my book.
I sometimes like to read reviews while giving a record a first pass, and I’ve gotta say I was surprised at how widely this was panned. To hear some of these tell it, Read My Lips was an affront to humanity. Ellis-Bextor already had a solid résumé before going into the studio and more than once had been tabloid fodder. I wonder if some of this was a bit of tall poppy syndrome? I will say that in isolation, each of the tracks is solid. Ten in a row, though, and they start running together. I can’t help but think that if these had been released as 12” singles, the overall reception might’ve been more positive.
At any rate, it’s very much a 2001 dance-pop record—the sort of thing Kylie Minogue (and everyone else) was making at the time after that last wave of SAW records passed through. Ellis-Bextor has a fantastic voice that carries a lot of the load here. This is the sort of record I might put on at work to keep things moving but wouldn’t mind missing a lyric or two if the phone rang or we got a blitz of teletype messages.
If they set out to make a record that people would regard as “pleasant,” mission accomplished.
Note: looks like this was reissued for this year’s Record Store Day as an “RSD First” release, featuring exclusive voice recordings incorporated throughout the album, plus rare bonus tracks and reimagined artwork. Releasing exclusively as part of Record Store Day 2026 on a limited edition red transparent glitter 2LP, each copy will be numbered and housed in a single sleeve with reimagined album cover art, plus printed inner bags featuring new unseen imagery compared to previous reissues. Okay, then.
Bottom Line: On a surface level, both are dance records for different audiences—one very much high-sheen and one a little grittier. But only one sticks with you long after the record is over. Basement Jaxx 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!
Today we’re taking a look at Love and Theft by Bob Dylan as it faces off against Wu Tang Clan’s Iron Flag LP.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Bob Dylan- Love and Theft
The last bracket challenge was for 89, and, of course, there was a Dylan record that year, which meant it would get nominated and be voted in. It was seeded at #66, which struck me as a bit low, but that speaks to the voting bloc demographics more than anything (add 10-12 years on and I guarantee that number’s somewhere in the teens).
Anyway, in the interest of putting my priors on the table early, here’s what I wrote then, and 10 months on, it still rings true:
I know that no matter what I write, no matter how many angels sing, I will get at least one reply telling me that it wasn’t enough, that I hadn’t quite prostrated myself correctly at the feet of Dylan. And how dare I?
There will invariably be some invective telling me to go F myself as well. Which, ok. I mean, I get it. This is a man people love dearly. He could read the phone book, and someone, somewhere, would laud it. Someone else would pore over the lyrics with a Talmudic intensity, searching for hidden meaning from our Minnesota magi.
I am not one of those people.
I can respect the love people have for him. I find his influence on music and pop culture interesting. But I have to be in the mood—I mean, really in the mood—to hear some Dylan, and even then, it’s limited to small doses. My runaway favorite song is this version of “Jokerman,” and most of that is because he’s playing with The Plugz.
If you ever want to summon a certain cohort of music fans, do a Top 100 of all time and leave Bob Dylan off the list. You don’t even have to go that far; your partner can submit one on his own, and you simply have to offer insufficient tribute. Highway 61 Revisited is…fine. I said what I said.
I think part of the allure is that it’s Dylan; you’re just supposed to like him. Whether you actually do or not is a different story. For older fans, I think it’s so representative of their formative years that they’re willing to overlook just about anything (you know, like his voice). And that’s fine! We like what we like. And mortality is a helluva drug. My contention is that in 10-15 years, I’ll ramble on too long about New Order or some ‘91-era band and get a comment about getting back to the home. Whatever.
What you should know is that by the timeOh Mercy ended, I’d had a small change of heart. nothing to shift my overall stance, but it wasn’t awful. It’s all relative, but I’d say the same for Love and Theft, too. These are the early days of Dylan’s current phase, and Love and Theft feels like he’s… having fun? What would the radicals-turned-stockbrokers think of that? Nothing’s gonna dethrone the version of Jokerman I mentioned above, but man, did Lonesome Day Blues and Mississippi come close. The former is noisy and fun, and the latter’s a mid-tempo rocker. There’s some swing (”Summer Days”) on here, but I’m willing to overlook it as having been caught up in the (regrettable) fad of the era. I like the overall blues-y direction this one takes. It feels effortless and easy.
See ya in my inbox.
Wu-Tang Clan- Iron Flag
Wu Tang is for the children, but this record is not for me. These are some of the best to ever do it, but this record feels like they’re going in 9 different directions. Props for the Flavor Flav guest spot, but not even he could save some of these joints. “Da Glock” is an absolute clunker. That said, it is Wu-Tang, and when they’re good? Godamn, they’re good. Check out “Y’All Been Warned” and “Radioactive” for a little bit of what makes’ em so lethal.
Bottom Line:
My bracket pick say Wu-Tang, but Lord have mercy, I’m voting for Dylan here. Who even am I anymore?
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Today we’re taking a look at Built to Spill’s Ancient Melodies of the Future as it takes on All is Dream by Mercury Rev.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challenge and noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
At one point during Riot Fest, I posted a screenshot of Sunday’s lineup to IG with the caption “please help.” The dinnertime choice was a 3-way tie between Dinosaur Jr, Best Coast, and TVOTR. The night would end with Jawbreaker’s reunion, an incredible moment I feel lucky to have been a part of. The day had kicked off with an early afternoon set from That Dog (killed it) and The Mighty Mighty Bosstones (meh, but it was hot, and they still insisted on wearing suits. Who could blame ‘em?!). Anyway, in between all of that, Built to Spill was slated to play. The latest in many, many opportunities we’d had to see them over the years. We chose to…go get something to eat instead. I say this not as a dig against the band, but to set the stage (sorrynotsorry) for my relationship with them. They’ve always been sorta in my orbit, but never really grabbed me the way they did other friends in my circle. I thought having a specific reason to listen would pull me in where other circumstances have failed. Dear reader, this did not happen. I kept waiting for a lightning bolt of revelation to strike. I’m still waiting.
A record should grab you by the collar and make you gin up excuses to put off whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing. For this match (both records, really), I kept finding reasons to stall playing them.
Part of this, I think, is that 2001 itself was such a weird era for me, life-wise. Weird in a good way, but one almost utterly bereft of any new music discovery or going to shows. Along with that, both Built to Spill and Mercury Rev were “bigger” in an era when I was looking the other way. My diet was a lot of synthpop, some industrial (see also: the trifecta of Ministry, NIN, and New Order, back-to-back on Friday), and then 80s college radio staples like The Replacements and REM. Keep It Like a Secret and Carry the Zero were already in the rearview mirror, and I hadn’t even turned the radio on.
Mercury Rev was the sort of fever-dreamy music usually enjoyed by people with big thoughts and who wrote think-pieces. Which is to say I find it exhausting. There are some strings, and it’s symphonic, but it all strikes me as a try-hard version of The Flaming Lips. I hate punching down (there’s no glory in emulating early era pitchfork), but this sort of overwrought, overbuilt material has always struck me as unnecessary. And I’m someone who likes symphonic and melodic (see also: New Order above). Maybe I should have done more hallucinogens. My biggest takeaway from All Is Dream is that I’m happy I was on the clock while listening to it.
Ancient Melodies of the Future is…fine. I will say that “Strange” is a killer track, and while listening (okay, 3x in a row), I wondered if I’d been mistaken for overlooking them all these years. “Fly Around Little Miss” is pretty good, too! Had it come out a few months earlier, I could very easily see myself singing along to it as I drove cross-country back to Portland. I found “In Your Mind” relaxing (?). Maybe not the best adjective for a record beloved by hipsters the world over. So be it. The rest, though? Just sorta went by in a blur. And in the end, we’re right back to where we started. Enjoyable enough record. Solid even. A couple of highlights I’m glad I found. But nothing compelling enough to stall getting work done or even going to get something to eat—I decided to go to lunch before playing it. Long live Doug Martsch, and good on him for being one of Boise’s best exports. Maybe one day I’ll get it, but today’s not that day.
Bottom Line: Went with Built to Spill on the strength of “Strange,” and they’re being (more or less) a PacNW band.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Today we’re taking a look at Pulp’s We Love Life as it takes on Go Forth by Les Savy Fav.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Pulp – We Love Life
I’m writing (at least) the early version of this on my phone in the basement. Nothing says ‘fun’ like being woken up by tornado sirens at 12:30 AM. At least they work, I guess? This was also how I learned that New Order/Joy Division had finally (!) made it into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Cue some pithy bon mot about silver linings, etc.
Anyway…
Last year, Pulp made a lot of waves with More, their first record in over 20 years. They were back, baby, and made sure we all knew it. It’s a good record, and even made the annual Best Of list in this here newsletter, with me writing:
Has it really been 20+ years since Pulp put a record out? Man, time flies. Anyway, in my head, I have this vision of someone my age(ish) seeing their kid come home with this record, which leads to busting out a copy of Different Class, and it becoming some sort of “warm memory.” That won’t happen with me; one kid likes metal, and I’m not too sure what the other one is into right now. And tbh I didn’t get into this band until several years into their hiatus. But they’re back, and we’re all the better for it. More is, well, more. I mean, what else were they gonna call this thing? It’s a little more of a muted affair in places. It’s a little more catchy in others. It’s a little more mature. I guess even Jarvis Cocker grows up at some point? Mostly, it’s more of what most people loved about this band, and a whole new generation gets to experience it for the first time. Viva Pulp!
So that was their triumphant return. We Love Life was were they’d left off. And 2001 seems to have found them in a more sanguine—or at least reflective—spot than previous records. To be sure, they were as self-assured as ever, but Jarvis Cocker and co seem to be less interested in caustic wit and more into things like…trees? And FWIW, ‘The Trees’ is my new favorite song by the band. This is not what people are usually looking for when they pick up a Pulp record, which is might explain why it seems to get overlooked or underrated in any discography discussions. It was until last year, the band’s parting shot, and I wonder if people saw it as going out with a whimper. Maybe people prefer anthems about class over tracks talking about weeds.
I think they made the record they wanted to make, and in the course of doing that alienated a huge chunk of their audience. Again, I’m doing a post-mortem here as I wasn’t a fan until long after they’d gone on hiatus. I’m happy to be corrected!
Either way, it’s a shame really, because, well, its a good record! Maybe not on the same level as Different Class or His & Hers, but it certainly holds it own. Besides ‘The Trees,” “Sunrise” and “Bad Cover Version” are both fantastic. No one needs to wade through 8+ minutes of “Wickerman,” though. Take that out of the mix and one could make a solid case for this rounding out their top 3.
Les Savy Fav-Go Forth
Being terminally online as left me completely internet poisoned. When I saw the avatar for this band on Apple Music, my first thought was…fuuuuuuck. One of them is wide-eyed and huffing on a fire extinguisher, and I thought we were in for the same vein of unserious—and incredibly tedious— shit I mentioned earlier this week. Not so fast! This was a good bit of agitpop in some spots, while in others, if you squint you could almost see a Stereolab record in the background. Even the cover reminds me over Emperor Tomato Ketchup. I have to think this is a one-and-done record for this bracket, but well, we’ve seen what happens wen I assume. Either way, it was a pleasant surprise.
Bottom Line: I gotta think Pulp runs away with this one, but if nothing else I found a new band, and that was pretty cool, too. (Insert second bon mot about silver linings…)
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Today we’re taking a quick look at BRMC’s self-titled debut as it takes on Spiritualized’s Let it Come Down.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club- S/T
Put aside the name, kitschy band name, and the fact that you spend a good amount of time thinking you’re listening to Jesus and Mary Chain; Black Rebel Motorcycle Club rips. 2001 might;ve been an era of potemkin-vkillages-as band, but this wasn;t one of them. Robert Levon Been on bass and vocals, Peter Hayes on guitar and vocals, Nick Jago on drums—they came out swinging with actual songs. In short, they came to play 9, no pun intended. Been is also the son of The Call’s Michael Been, so that’s a nohter notch in the win column.
“Love Burns” is a slow burn that gets things off to a strong start. Red Eyes and Tears and “Whatever Happened to My Rock n’ Roll (Punk Song) are two more for your playlist. The latter will also have you thinking more about The Stooges than you have in a while. We’ll see where this bracket takes up, but that’s gotta be an early leader for “best opening run of tracks.”
The rest holds up as well. “As Sure as the Sun” has a steady churn that builds into something almost pretty (maybe that’s just me. I was listening at work before sunrise). “Spread Your Love” brings a fat bass line and a nice dose of distortion. As with lots of records, a couple of spots drop off—like the last seconds of “Whatever Happened…” — but these feel intentional, not because of any sloppiness.
I’m probably the wrong person to ask, but the lasting impression of this band is that People slept on them and this record. Maybe the JAMC comps were a distraction, but besides the fuzz and drone, there’s plenty of hooks too.
A lot of these records feel very much of their time. Or worse, like it’s a nostalgia exercise. This doesn’t strike me as one of ‘em. Besides mistakenly thinking it was JAMC, my other overarching takeaway is that this was a goddamn delight, and a record that could easily have been released last week.
Bottom Line:
Spiritualized vs BRMC seems like the most 2001 contest that ever 2001 contested, but here we are. Both are seeded roughly mid-pack (56 vs 73). On my bracket, I went with the higher seed. Seemed reasonable at the time! With the benefit of a couple of new listens for each, I’ll once again vote against myself and ride for BRMC.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
We’ve got a great host and a killer record, all set to go. All we need now is you! Here’s how to join the fun.
Good Morning!
Today we’re talking about Connected by The Foreign Exchange, and how you can talk about the record with other like minded people.
Note: As some of you know, I’m one of the editors for an online music publication called The Riff. Each month, we host an album discussion (via Zoom), and this month’s is coming up this Sunday November 2nd, 4PM EST/1PM PT
Backspin Hip-Hop’s Jeffrey Harvey, this month’s host. These guys are doing the heavy lifting.
As you’ll see below, these are low-key affairs; all are welcome! If you want to share some thoughts, that’s awesome. Wanna just sit back & listen? That’s cool, too. Everything you need to know about how to join us is below.
Either way, it’d be better with you there.
Today’s guest post below comes from Harvey himself, who makes a fantastic case for why he picked this record, why it’s the right record for right now, and why you should be there Sunday to hear about it and/or share your thoughts.
KA—
My connection to October/November’s Riff Album of the Month was a culmination of sorts. Or maybe a coronation. It actually came by way of the album after this one in a catalog that offered a template for 21st Century collaboration.
But let’s rewind before we fast forward.
In 1999, producer/The Roots’ drummer ?uestLove and writer Angela Nissel founded Okayplayer as an online hub to connect progressive hip-hop artists with like-minded listeners. As was happening all over the web, a community emerged. The features, reviews, and artist interviews gave the platform its gravitas. But its lifeblood was the message boards.
The boards allowed members to connect with one another. They quickly became a place where everybody knows your username for a particular subset of teens and young adults. This was the crowd more likely to stay up until 3 AM deciphering how Dilla chopped that Rick James sample into sonic witness protection on Common’s “Dooinit” rather than arguing over which sucker MCs Com was firing at. On those message boards, they found their tribe.
Chief among the tribesmen was “Taygravy.” Behind that username lived Phonte Coleman, an aspiring MC from North Carolina who shared tracks from his group, Little Brother, on the boards. In 2002, Little Brother landed a record deal, based at least partly on the internet buzz that began on Okayplayer. When their debut album, The Listening, the following year, it was a seminal moment for the site — the message boards in particular. Though The Listening was released through a tiny indie label and struggled to find retail space on box store shelves, it felt like the moment that Okayplayer’s digital oasis became anchored in something tangible.
When Dutch producer Nicolay began corresponding with Phonte via the boards, he was connecting with a made man. Yet, in the context of the Okay-ecosystem, they were peers. Music lovers. OKPs. Young artists hustling to connect their sounds with open ears. What began as an exchange of beats and ideas between community members blossomed into something unprecedented. It ultimately foreshadowed the future of not only music but 21st-century collaboration.
From Holland, Nicolay sent files to Phonte in Durham via AOL Instant Messenger (RIP AOL). Phonte laid vocals and snail-mailed the files back to Nicolay for post-production. Momentum built, and what began as an experiment became a passion project.
Tay and Lay could have held the lightning in a bottle for themselves. Instead, they opened the bottle and invited their friends to sip. Tay’s Little Brother partner, Big Pooh, features prominently. So does their extended Carlonia-based Justus League crew. But the album also provides a platform for peers from around the U.S. (the Eastern Seaboard, anyway) to whom the duo extended the digital share space — fellow OKP Von Pea (Brooklyn), Critically Acclaimed (DC by way of NYC), Kenn Starr (DC), Oddisee (Maryland).
As a result, the album plays as a collective mission statement for a generation ascending into adulthood at a moment of jarring paradigm shifts and getting by with a whole lot of help from their friends. Want a cheat code to understanding the album’s ethos? Pay close attention to the propulsive fourth track, “Hustle, Hustle”. Here, Phonte seems not only content, but enthusiastic to slide into a supporting role. He sings the hook while Critically Acclaimed’s Quartermaine and C.A.L.I.B.E.R. set the album’s thematic table of navigating the quest for personal fulfillment in the face of mounting responsibilities.
No matter when you entered adulthood, the core themes of defining identity, priorities, and place in the world will likely resonate as a right of passage. The universality of the themes and earnestness with which they’re explored are a big part of why, even at a moment when digital technology was making our relationship to music more transient, this album stuck with its listeners.
The other component of its timelessness is Nicolay’s production. Think the meticulous sonic polish of Steely Dan paired with the enveloping warmth of The Ummah. But where Steely Dan had access to state-of-the-art studios and all-star musicians, Nicolay had a desktop computer and a mini-arsenal of keyboards in a bedroom. If Aja represents the pinnacle of analog-era studio craft, this month’s album was an early beacon of fully realized digital-age craftsmanship.
By the time I formally joined the Okayplayer team as a writer in the late 2000s, the platform had already tipped. OkayOGs like Common, Erykah Badu, and Jill Scott were firmly situated in popular culture. Okayplayer was regularly cited in mainstream media outlets, as established journalists increasingly looked to it as a harbinger of cresting sounds. The signature logo shirts were visible on the streets of major cities worldwide. The Roots would soon become Jimmy Fallon’s house band.
Yet, there was the distinct sense that us second (third?) generation writers had arrived after the true golden years — the moments when a movement was coalescing in real time.
So when I was tapped to write the top-of-fold review for The Foreign Exchange’s 2008 sophomore album, Leave It All Behind, it felt like a connection to the glory days. A link to the era when a website became a community, digital dialog sparked creative collaboration, and a proof-of-concept emerged for 21st-century connection. When my review was “blurbed” for the album’s digital banner ad, it was validation. (I would soon be blurbed for Brooklynatiby Von Pea’s group, Tanya Morgan — also formed on the message boards — locking in my Okay bonafides.)
This month, we’re going back to the genesis.
October/November’s Riff Album of the Month is Connected by The Foreign Exchange.
We’ll connect and discuss on Sunday, November 2nd at 4 PM EST, details below.
** A BRIEF LISTENING NOTE: ** The original version consists of 14 tracks, ending with “All That You Are.” Tracks 15–17 were later added as bonus cuts. Feel free to listen, but for the purposes of the discussion, the album is tracks 1–14.
With The Riff Album of the Month Club itself having evolved from digital dialog to virtual community to several in-person meet-ups, it feels like the perfect setting to discuss not only Connected, but the nature of connection in the age of digital anomie.
I hope to see all the regulars, semi-regulars, and irregulars.
For newcomers, joining the community is easy. Simply listen to the album and log into the Zoom call detailed below. You can talk as much or as little as you want and are free to say anything.
This article is not paywalled, so share it freely on social media and elsewhere.
Kevin Sent 
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