Today we’re taking a look at Stereolab’s Sound-Dust LP.
I came to Sound-Dust long after hearing other Sterolab records on either side of the catalog, which probably changed the way I hear it.
By the time I got to it, I already knew a few of the albums that came before, and a few that came after, so I had at least a little context. What stood out right away was how complete(?) it felt. Stereolab is still Stereolab here, so you get the bleeps, bloops, and sidequests. The little left turns that can make their records feel like they’re always drifting just enough. On Sound-Dust, you get all of that, yet it somehow feels assembled into something more settled and, frankly, more satisfying.
I don’t want to say they finally figured out sequencing, but if the shoe fits…
The songs flow into each other with more purpose than I expect from a Stereolab album, and that gives the record a real shape, or actual arc. It still sounds weird, of course; wouldn’t be Stereolab if it didn’t!. But instead of sounding scattered, it comes across as composed.
That’s a part of why I think Sound-Dust deserves more attention than it usually gets. The other is that this is Mary Hansen’s last appearance, and her tragic death casts a long shadow. Obviously, no one knew this would be her final record, but listening to it today feels like having a front-row seat at the end of an era. The record itself is so bright and alive, and while I’d much prefer she were still here, it’s a great final act, and a great close to an era.
That said, Sound-Dust also feels like the band easing into the next stage. Again, obviously, hindsight helps, but it has that future-retro quality, where the old hallmarks are still there but smoothed out and arranged into something more unified/monolithic. Stereolab had always been good at making music that sounded like it came from somewhere in the future. Here, that instinct feels appropriate. Less like something from the Jetsons or Space Age bachelor pad, and more of it’s time. I really hope that makes as much sense on your screen as it does mine…
Ultimately, I think that’s why this one warrants some space in the “best Stereolab record” discourse. When you’re up against titans like Emperor Tomato Ketchup, Dots and Loops, or even Transient Random Noise Bursts w/Announcements, an upset is a tall ask.
I don’t think this is the best one they’ve ever released, but it is one that helps define what Stereolab became in the 2000s. It is graceful, strange, and surprisingly warm. It has enough twists and turns to keep you leaning in, but it also feels like a band at the top of their game, trusting their own instincts more than ever.
Bottom Line: This is facing of against Allison Krauss & Union Station, and while there’s no denying her incredible talent, thwer’s also no denying that it came close to being only my 2nd or 3rd DNF of this challenge so far. This just wasn’t my bag. Bracket pick and vote will be for the Groop.
Any thoughts on either this or any Stereolab records? Agree/disagree with my take? Sound off in the comments!
Today we’re taking a look at Gorillaz’ self-titled debut as it faces off against Clearlake’s Lido.
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—
In an era where AI blurs the line between what’s real and what isn’t, a band of cartoon avatars feels almost quaint. But in 2001, this was all wild-frontier kind of stuff, even if we knew the voices behind the characters. Damon Albarn had seen massive success in Blur, while Del Tha Funky Homosapien had given the world one of the most lethal earworms in the form of “Dobalina.” As part of Cibo Matto, Miho Hatori was also a bit of a cult figure. So yeah, plenty of firepower and street cred in equal measure.
Things kick off with the steady groove of “Re-Hash,” and quickly establish that this is not a Blur record, or a Del or Cibo Matto record, for that matter, but it is a collective effort. And of course, we have to talk about “Clint Eastwood,” the track that put them on the map. The blending of Albarn’s vocals with Del’s and the beat, which, if memory serves, came from the demo mode of a Casio keyboard, made for a fantastic on-ramp for most of us.
“19-2000” is also an all-timer, but for my money, the real star here is “Rock the House” (another Del feature). It’s a dance-floor filler. There’s also plenty of dub and other spacey vibes in every corner of the record, which leads to its biggest fault: for all the highs, there’s an equal amount of not-so-high stuff. This is a 15-track record that could have very easily been a 9- or 10-track masterpiece. With that much talent in one space, it was bound to happen.
Still, the good far outweighs the bad. We know the heights the band will reach later with tracks like “On Melancholy Hill” and “Dare.” But none of that happens without the noodling and adventuring taking place here. It’s a little rough around the edges, but ultimately this is a solid debut from a collective finding its footing.
With Lido, Clearlake seems to have found theirs, which ironically sounds not a little like Blur and later-era Beatles. And with Sunday Evening, maybe a little like Portishead? Maybe that’s just me. Maybe I’m overthinking it. No matter. This was supposed to represent the next wave of Britpop, but people want Parklife or the snotty fury of Oasis. They come close with “Something to Look Forward to” (this writer’s favorite on the record), but mostly this is atmospheric, woozy music with Jason Pegg’s vocals over the top. It’s an aesthetic that only comes from living somewhere that sees a lot of rain. It’s appealing enough, but not something I can see myself returning to.
Bottom Line: Gorillaz are seeded 7th here, and going up against #122 seems unfair. Part of me wants to vote for Clearlake just to see what happens, but as maudlin as the record can get, I’m not sure they’d appreciate a pity vote. Bracket pick and vote are both going to 2-D, Murdoc, Noodle, and Russel.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my take? Sound off in the comments!
Note: May 18th is a big day both in music history and for anyone who lived in the PNW in 1980. I first ran this piece when there were about 6 of us here (and 3 of them lived with me), and it’s become an annual tradition.
We don’t have many musical traditions in my family. On Thanksgiving, my wife & kids have to endure “Alice’s Restaurant” at least once (or rather, my attempts to sing it). Sometime in the next few weeks after that, Otis Redding’s version of “Merry Christmas Baby” gets a spin, and that’s about it for the year…with one exception.
Growing up, we hardly had any traditions- musical or not. In fact, about the only time I can remember us doing anything even remotely collective had to do with this song. This started in 1980, in the lead-up to Mt. St. Helens’ eruption, when the song was played as a bit of gallows humor. Anytime it played, we’d all just sort of start singing along. No other song before or since can make that claim.
If you can’t control something, you might as well sing about it, right?
P.S. Since this first ran, my mom moved. I’m not sure the Sanka can came with her, but I’d like to think it’s still in a box waiting to be unpacked.
KA—
Living under a looming threat and widespread mask use was a new phenomenon for most of us. But for those of a certain age living in the Pacific Northwest, it evoked memories of 1980.
Living in the shadows of the Cascade Mountains, it’s easy to forget that it’s a volcanic range. Easy, that is, until Mother Nature reminds you.
And so it was in late 1979/early 1980 with Mt. St. Helens.
At first, the eruptions were nominal enough; some steam here, a small landslide there. Later as they grew in scale, ash began to rain down on downwind communities, and painter masks became de rigueur fashion.
This culminated with a cataclysmic eruption on May 18th, 1980, which permanently changed people’s lives — and left the landscape unrecognizable.
On that day, just five words let the world know it was about to be changed forever. Volcanologist David Johnston had been camped on the mountain’s flank to monitor the increasingly dangerous situation.
The morning of May 18th, in a radio call to the USGS office, he announced the eruption to the world, his last words being, “Vancouver! Vancouver! This is it!
Buffett had a different mountain in mind when he wrote “Volcano.” He was talking about the Soufriere Hills volcano on the Caribbean Island of Montserrat.
But radio stations in places like Portland, Oregon, and Spokane, Washington, put it in their rotation as a part of a gallows humor approach to the impending disaster everyone knew was coming but didn’t know when — the calypso style offering a sunny contrast to the (literally) gray pall cast over the area.
Four decades on, the song remains a staple at Buffett performances—and in my house on every May 18th.
If you have friends who grew up in Oregon or Washington, don’t be surprised if pictures of Johnston are on their timelines today.
And for many of those same people, a coffee can full of volcanic ash remains on a shelf in their garage as a souvenir — a reminder of when life got sketchy, and nothing was left to do but sing about it.
Besides Jimmy and Joy Division, this week’s list has new tracks from Dan Pritchard, The Mountain Goats, and Kurt Vile. We’ve also got the usual sonic comfort food/deep cuts from GBV, XTC, and more.
Side A is tracks 1-15 (ends with Wilco). Side B is tracks 16-31.
The 2-lane highway from Portland’s western suburbs to the Oregon Coast was exactly 72 miles.
It usually took about an hour and a half. It was a little faster if traffic was light and we were in a fast car. Or a little longer if we were in my friend Matt’s VW bus. It never bothered us, though.
It’s hard to be in a hurry when the sun’s out and you’re with your friends.
No one ever felt the need to check their watch while moseying through the Coast Range listening to Bob Marley.
At this point, Marley’s “Legend” compilation record is the default reggae record. Even if you can’t name a single other title or artist, you invariably at least know this one. Released posthumously, it’s the best-selling reggae record of all time, racking up millions of copies sold as of this writing. At least a dozen of those sales were from us.
Is there any other record so closely associated with it’s genre?
Most of us wound up going deeper into Marley’s discography, but like so many others, “Legend” was our on-ramp to his music. There we’d be, singing, “Every little thing’s gonna be all right,” while the bus wheezed and gasped, struggling to carry us over the hills. We sang “get up stand up” and would wind up doing just that through the years. The Bush family derisively referred to Portland as “Little Beirut.” We wore it as a badge of honor.
But over on the left side of the map, those concerns were a million miles away- our only worries being gas money and hitting spots like Indian Beach.
Today, we remember Marley on the 45th anniversary of his passing.
Four decades plus is a long time to have been gone from this life, yet Marley’s music & vision resonate now more than ever.
If we want every little thing to be all right, we need to get up and stand up.
This week’s list has factory fresh tracks from BODEGA, Nightbus, Onesie, and Taxi Girls, and well as the usual sonic comfort food and deep cuts.
Side A is tracks 1-14 (ends with “The Barbeque Party”). Side B is tracks 15-27.
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 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!
Today we’re taking a look at beautiful garbage as it faces off against Andrew WK’s I Get Wet.
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—
You can tell who is from Madison and who isn’t by how they describe the traffic. If they tell you it’s awful, they grew up here. If they laugh and say it’s not too bad, they’re a transplant. The only exception to this rule (IMO) is East Washington Avenue (aka East Wash). The arterial runs through the city and gets more treacherous the closer you get to the capital. While you’re fighting to stay alive, you might miss what’s left of Smart Studios.
Standing there forlorn at the intersection of East Wash and Baldwin streets, it’s easy to forget that some incredible records were made in Madison on the isthmus. Records from L7, Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, Young Fresh Fellows, and many, many more were all made there.
So it only stood to reason that when some of the people behind the boards on those records decided to make their own, the result would be great.
Former Angelfish frontwoman Shirley Manson joined producer Butch Vig, Duke Erikson, and Steve Marker, and together they crafted something unlike everything else we were hearing at the time. It’s safe to say that Vig was one of the architects of the grunge movement. It’s also safe to say that this record doesn’t sound anything like it. Whether it’s the woozy, buzzsaw opening guitar on the opener “Supervixen,” the creeping sound of “Queer,” or the in-your-face menace of “Vow,” it was exactly the new sound needed to fill in the void as the grunge wave began to ebb. Garbage 2.0 was more of the same, and we couldn’t get enough.
Would beautiful garbage keep the streak going?
Opener “Shut Your Mouth” sure makes it seem like it. The band–and specifically Shirley Manson— roar back with their trademark mix of snarling vocals and gritty industrial sounds. It’s all on brand and makes it easy to assume this’ll be a record stylistically similar to the two records that came before it.
Not so fast.
“Androgyny” leans a bit toward the pop light with an infectious hook and sing-along choruses. It’s catchy enough, but something feels undercooked here. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe the edges were sanded off just a bit too much? Then we get to “Can’t Cry These Tears.” This one goes all in on electro pop, right down to including some bells. I’m scribbling these notes the day we learned Nedra Talley of The Ronettes has passed, and all I keep coming back to is “this is a song they totally could’ve pulled off.”
Garbage is best when there’s some fuzzy guitar right up front, and “Til the Day I Die” has got that for days. And is it just me, or did they lift the riff from Funky Cold Medina?
“Cup of Coffee“ is the band’s stab at a ballad. Manson’s voice can carry just about anything, but I don’t think a ballad is what people are looking for from them.
“So Like a Rose” is a woozy bit of dramatic pop. Like if Kevin Shields let the fog clear a little bit.
Stylistically, this record is all over the map. There’s a fine line between “pushing creative boundaries” and “mixed bag,” and beautiful garbage isn’t quite sure which side to land on– especially when compared to the first two records. Part of me wonders if they were afraid fans would reject more of the same. I doubt it. People loved that! We wanted more of that spark; more of that techno-meets-industrial-meets chanteuse (with a little sampling thrown in for good measure).
It wasn’t exactly a world beater at the register, either. It wasn’t drawing in new fans and seemed to turn away older fans (though that seems to have changed over time). I’m sure dropping a record in the first few weeks following 9/11 didn’t help, nor did dropping “Androgyny” as the first single (one of the weaker tracks on the album, IMO). It’s not terrible, but just feels labored. Like they were meeting a contractual obligation, but were too proud (and too good) to drop an overtly shitty record.
Over time, people seem to have warmed to beautiful garbage. I wonder how much of that is down to being able to stream the good tracks whole, leaving the others behind.
The building where Smart Studios is located is now an Airbnb, and how people react to that is also a tell. Some think it’s lovely and are happy to see it invested in, while others see it as heresy. What’s not up for debate is that some world-changing sounds came from inside those walls, and Garbage’s is but one of them. And it still sounds like nothing else.
While Garbage may have worried about their record sounding like everything else they’d already done, Andrew WK bet the other way, going all in on being a one-trick pony. And taken at face value, it works. It’s a simple premise- make an over-the-top party record. Not everything has to be so serious all the time! There’s a time & place for that, and there’s a time & place to record that helps you just check out for a bit. This is the sort of thing that’s really easy to dismiss, but it takes a lot of work to make something look easy. It’s safe to say that a lot of music scolds were annoyed by this record. It’s also safe to say that’s always a good thing. Sometimes you just want a record so outlandish that it defies description. Something that sounds good cranked to 11 as you barrel down the freeway.
Bottom Line: Tough call. At first blush, I think Garbage will go through to Round 2 on reputation alone. Plus, I like that it was recorded a few miles from where I now live. OTOH, I like how forcefully I Get Wet pushes back on some of the navel-gazing styles people were embracing in ‘01. I Get Wet also doesn’t try to be anything more than what it says on the tin. My bracket pick and vote will go to Andrew WK.
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!
You’d be hard-pressed to miss the trend back toward friction. For some, it’s fueled by a nostalgia for a simpler time. For others, it’s pushback against a digital world constantly asking more and more of them. Whatever it is, dumbphones are high in demand. Vinyl is still enjoying a resurgence. Parties where people leave their phones at the door are a thing (we used to just call these “parties” or “functions”). Do they listen to music at these? If not, they should. Listening to cool music with cool people is where it’s at.
A lifetime ago, the airline I worked for did its own cabin cleaning. There are few things that will make you lose faith in humanity faster than this work. There are also few things that make it more bearable than listening to music. We used to do this by taking the interphone, jury-rigging it to stay on (as if someone was talking), and then sticking it in front of a boom box. The radio was usually powered by an extension cord run out from the jet bridge’s cab. In other words, a lot of friction. But also very much worth it.
Why am I telling you this? Well, all those years ago, I lucked into working with some of the coolest guys going. And they liked John Hiatt, which meant we listened to him a lot (and JJ Cale, etc). At the time, they all seemed so old, but really were only about as old as I am now. Most of them have long retired and moved to places like Arizona. I was hoping to be there this coming weekend for a wedding and thought it might be a good idea to look a few up, get caught up, and commiserate about the old days. The universe had other plans, so that’ll have to be some other time.
In the meantime, we’ve got one of the most played Hiatt tracks from those days, no interphone required.
We’ve also got brand new stuff from Doug Gillard, Afghan Whigs, Future Islands, and our pals Brian K. and the Parkway. There’s also some sonic comfort food in the form of Jawbreaker, Push Stars, and GBV.
This week, Side A is tracks 1-14 (ends with “I’ve Got My Mind Set On You”). Side B is tracks 15-29.
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 Satellite Rides by Old 97s as it squares off against the self-titled debut from The Knife.
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—
Old 97’s- Satellite Rides
Thought for sure this would be one of those records where I’d know a track when I heard it, but no dice.
Rhett Miller strikes me as a poppier version of John Hiatt and a less sarcastic version of Paul Westerberg. The kind of guy who’s a bit of a wiseass (or asshole) on the surface, but is also somehow the first one over the table to defend you. My hometown was lousy with this sort of guy — they just weren’t singing about it. Maybe he hasn’t seen as much yet? You can see a world-weariness looming on the horizon, but it’s not quite at the door.
In the meantime, we get uber-catchy pop rock with some country and just enough Americana to keep everyone honest. The lyrics take layered looks at the people in the songs and the human condition overall. It’s a record that evokes scenes of surfing the dial while driving across Texas, and like that dial, the album has a little something for everyone. Want pop rock? “Rollercoaster Skinny” is just what the doctor ordered. Want to slow it down just a touch? “Buick City Complex” is right next door. Need a little twang? They’ve got you. Want some earnest, “I’m being serious for once” type stuff? Can’t go wrong with “Question” and “Am I Too Late” (it’s twangy AF, but with heavy lyrics).
I didn’t do any kind of research, but I suspect a lot of dudes in my demographic used “Question” as a pillar in marriage proposals. “Am I Too Late” is what happens when you don’t say what you want until it’s way too late. Regrets? Miller’s had a few. But at least we got an upbeat song out of it.
Tell someone how you feel today. And if it goes sideways? Well, at least you can say you did it. And there’s plenty of rockers on here to soundtrack your escape out of town. If it goes great? Maybe you can spin up a proposal using “Question.”
This is way catchier than I bargained for. It grew on me quickly, and lord help me, it’s a goddamn delight. Am I… am I an Old 97’s fan now? One record does not a discography make, but we’re off to a good start. It’s radio-friendly, with just the right amount of mesquite flavoring. Perfect for your next drive to Champaign or for filling the roadhouse jukebox.
The Knife- S/T
I like Fever Ray (“Even It Out” is my hipster pick for favorite Halloween song — you can only go with Ministry so many times!), but in limited doses. I think I’d like it more if I still got high.
I’d totally spaced that The Knife was Karin Dreijer’s earlier project with her brother Olof. There is something compelling about her vocals — whether in Röyksopp, as Fever Ray, or here. It’s novel, but not a novelty. I hope that makes as much sense on the page as it does in my head. It’s the same pull that Björk grabs me with.
On a track like “I Just Had to Die,” you’d be excused for thinking you’d popped Post in the tray by mistake. Doubly so for “I Take Time,” though that leans more toward a Björk/Flock of Seagulls mash-up. Something I’d definitely search the web for if high enough.
At any rate, couple all of that with a raw, gritty synth sound and you get the gist of this record. If you like that sort of thing, “Kino” will be a highlight. Dig a little chiptune? There’s some of that on here, too (“Zapata”). This record might be old enough to rent a car, but it somehow still sounds like it’s coming from the future. It’s a little delirious, but unapologetically so, and we’re better for it.
Bottom Line: Both of these were pleasant surprises and a nice blast of color after wading through all kinds of beige indie rock over the last few matchups. My bracket tells me I gave Old 97’s the nod, likely on name recognition, but my vote? Man, I didn’t know. It’s going to be a game-time decision, I think.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Kevin Sent 