Good morning and Happy Labor Day to those of you reading in the U.S.!
Need an antidote for the algorithms? Looking for a place to share the music you love with like-minded people? You’re in the right spot.
As always, thank you to those who upgraded their subscriptions this past week. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts also help! Thank you!
When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:
For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing.
The playlist below is some of what I’ve had in heavy rotation. This week has again been more of a balance between new tracks and old faves, with a local favorite thrown in for good measure.
2025 might be a hot mess, but not where new music is concerned.
The flood of great records continues! Today we’re taking a quick look at the latest from Superchunk, The Cavernous, and Case Oats (and more!)
Longtime readers may recall that I reviewed 100 new (to me) records last year. Because I’m a glutton for punishment love music, I’m doing it again this year. This is the latest in the series.
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at the latest from Superchunk, The Cavernous, Case Oats, and more!
Every year, I celebrate all the great music we’ve been gifted while worrying that next year will see the other shoe drop. I first did that in December 2020 and have been proven wrong every month since. Not only are there a ton of releases steadily coming out, but it also transcends genre or any other artificial guardrail we try and put up—
In other words, a ton of good stuff is coming out, and there’s something for everyone. It’s almost overwhelming— but in all the best ways. Below is another batch that caught my attention recently.
A lot of recent releases landed on my radar all at once, and I want to shine a light on them before too much more time passes. Not quite an 88 lines about 44 records kind of deal, but close. More of a clearing the decks, if you will.
Let’s get into it!
Superchunk – Sounds From the Key of Yikes
When I was a teenager, I was a holy terror behind the wheel. It was hammer down all the time from a kid who could barely see over the steering wheel. Tracks like Superchunk’s “Precision Auto” were the perfect soundtrack. Mac McCaughan had some shit to get off his chest, and I was there for it. Albums like ’93’s On the Mouth were the perfect record for where I was at the time.
Flash forward to 2025: I drive a wagon, and while I’m not quite at the stage where I call out every sign I pass, it’s close. Not being able to see very well doesn’t help.
Mac McCaughan, on the other hand, sees things perfectly. As he’s racked up the miles—er, years—his writing (and the band’s sound) has taken on a much more reflective tone. He’s still railing against a lot of the issues of the day, but there’s more perspective—the kind that can only be earned by the years (see also: Mould, Bob).
Talking about 2022’sWild Loneliness, I noted that “Wild Loneliness finds the band in a more contemplative place. Lead singer Mac McCaughan isn’t railing so much as he’s reflecting.”
On this release, he’s somewhere in the middle.
With Jon Wurster having left and Laura Ballance no longer touring with the band, Superchunk have a real Ship of Theseus thing starting to happen. Yes, I know Ballance still plays on the records themselves, but still.
Fear not; the tone has softened, but only a little, and the band continues the trajectory started with 2018’s What a Time to Be Alive. It’s overtly political, but not annoyingly so, and when things are couched in power-pop goodness, the medicine goes down easy.
Opener “Is It Making You Feel Something” starts the record off strong with all the fizzy pop and chunky power chords we’ve come to expect. Say what you will, but for my money, guitarist Jim Wilbur is this band’s secret sauce.
“Bruised Lung” keeps things moving right along, and so do the next couple of tracks. McCaughan is optimistic, but there’s lament creeping in—almost like he’s forcing a smile as resistance. Our generation is quite good at performative nonchalance, and when he sings:
I’m trying to care less I’m trying to care less Don’t make me remember What I can’t forget I’m trying to care less, yeah
I’m not sure if he’s being serious or sardonic. Is this a political rant about the current state of play, or an updated version of Driveway to Driveway?
If you like mid-discography Superchunk, you’ll find plenty here to dig. What you see is what you get; no one’s trying to make a concept record. If you’re all in on the early stuff, you might find the edges a little too sanded off, but odds are good you’ve thought that for a while now. It’s easy to get consumed by (waves hands all around), and while fully checking out isn’t an option, trying to care less is sage advice.
I don’t know that anyone will claim this as their new favorite record by the band, but it’s got a lot of what’s helped them make it to elder statesman status, and with just the right blend of angry and sanguine, it’s the right record for right now. (Bandcamp link)
Case Oats- Last Missouri Exit
I have this daydream that I’ll retire early from my job, hit the Midwest backroads, and restart my quest for the four calendar cafe. I did this a lot in my early 20s, coming close a couple of times, but never hit the jackpot. This time around, I’d find it- just as imagined; a clean, well-lit place, populated with locals sitting in the same spots their families have for generations. Where everyone knows your name (except for me, obvs), and the coffee is strong enough to stand a spoon up in. The menus are one-sided single laminate sheets, and the aroma of the freshly baked pie is seared into the slightly cracked vinyl booths. You can see over the diner counter back into the kitchen where a radio is perched up on a shelf (antenna pointed just so), and you’ll hear something like Case Oats’ “In a Bungalow” coming through the tinny speakers. It will be exactly what I’ve been looking for, and it will be fantastic.
I never really know what I’m looking for when it comes to alt-country or Americana. As both a fan ofsad dad bands and a music writer, saying I’m mostly looking for a vibe might not be the best approach, but that’s what happens. Albums in this lane either have that vibe (see above) or they don’t. Last Missouri Exit checks all the boxes. Casey Walker’s plaintive vocals feel authentic in a way that’s becoming increasingly rare. When she’s singing about life and lives lived, you feel it. Supporting her is a lot of talent, including Spencer Tweedy. It takes a lot of work to sound this unpolished, but they make light work of it.
Last Missouri Exit doesn’t stray too far from the plan here. Like those one-page menus, the tracks are simple and to the point (not derogatory). No one will describe this album as pushing boundaries—and it never tries to. This is a record that feels as lived-in as those booths. And it, too, is fantastic. (Bandcamp link)
The Cavernous – Please Hold
The (literal) pitch: It’s a lo-fi, trip-hop–leaning album accessible only by calling a North American toll-free number. The record blends ambient textures, eerie downtempo, and cryptic operator messages into something equal parts surreal and existential. Lead single “Guile” is streaming now.
Okay, so the idea that you would need to call a 1-800 number to hear a record seemed too clever by half… but also really intriguing. Sort of like taking Cindy Lee’s Geocities–only release to the next level.
In an era of hours-long hold times, sadistic phone trees, and AI chatbots, the idea of willfully calling a line to literally listen to a treatise on hold times seems like an incredible self-own. And it would be… except for one thing: the record is really good. Not even sure I can call it a record, but whatever it is, it kept me fully engaged. The lo-fi beats and loops felt comforting, like I was finally being let in on a joke, only to then be jolted back to reality by the “just a little too loud” spoken word updates that are on all the routine calls we suffer through. I have to assume those are there to ensure we don’t fall asleep, right?
There are downtempo beats and washed-out synths for days. Even the sounds like Microsoft’s hold music, which usually make me reflexively angry, only made me chuckle here.
“It started as a joke about hold music,” says frontman Rob McLaren. “Then it became a meditation on death.”
I’m not sure I can describe it any better than that. Want to experience it for yourself? Call 1-877-420-9159. It might be the only time you’ll be happy to be “on hold” for 45 minutes.
Good morning! Need an antidote for the algorithms? Looking for a place to share the music you love with like-minded people? You’re in the right spot.
As always, thank you to those who upgraded their subscriptions this past week. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts also help! Thank you!
When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:
For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing.
The playlist below is some of what I’ve had in heavy rotation. This week has been more of a balance between new tracks and old faves. That said, a TON of great new records came out this past Friday, so who knows what next week’ll look like?
2025 might be a hot mess, but not where new music is concerned.
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.
Cover art courtesy of IRS Records
Good Morning!
Today we’re talking about The English Beat’s Special beat Service, and well, how you can talk about the band 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), which is coming up on Sunday.
To be clear, all credit goes to Terry Barr and Scott Fountain, who facilitate the meetings, and Jessica Lee McMillan, this month’s host. These three 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.
Either way, it’d be better with you there.
KA—
It’s that time again; it’s time for our monthly album discussion!
One of our core tenets is sharing music. That obviously involves writing about it, but also talking about it together. We do that monthly here.
This Sunday, August 24th, is that day.
Below is my boilerplate explanation of these discussions and the value you’ll get from joining us. Under that are both the record being discussed and the meeting login details.
Don’t know the record? Doesn’t matter.
Not comfortable speaking in public? Me either. And you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Heck, you don’t even have to turn your camera on. It’s a safe space, but you control what you share.
Ultimately, you’re part of the community; we want you to be a part of this, too.
So check out the “rules” below, and then plan to dial in.
What is this?
For new readers (hi everyone!), we host an online discussion every month.
Here’s how it works:
A writer (more on that in a second) picks a record to discuss and writes a brief piece about their choice and the meeting details.
At the meeting, they discuss why they picked it, offer a bit of a backstory/context, and whatever else they’d like to share.
Everyone else on the call can share their own “hot take,” related story, or anything else you think is relevant.
At the end of the meeting, the next month’s writer volunteers (or is chosen), and the process repeats itself.
NOTE FOR INTROVERTS: If you’d prefer to sit in and listen, that is 110% okay. Keep your video off…stay muted…it’s up to you. It’s a safe place; you can participate as much/as little as you’d like.
This month’s host:
This month’s host is Jessica Lee McMillan, a poet, writer, and teacher based in Vancouver, B.C. Her work has been featured in dozens of publications. You can see more of her writing here or on her website.
Cool! So, what are we talking about?
Jessica has chosen ‘Special Beat Service’ by The English Beat..
I am still grateful for the third wave, which brought The Specials back into rotation at clubs. I was only a few years old when the Beat emerged, and I had records and cassettes of General Public and Fine Young Cannibals. But I have to thank that third wave for making its way into the goth community here in Vancouver, where — of all places — I first learned to skank to Madness in my late teens.
Musical influences can travel anywhere — like language — and while we want to respect its origins, genre — like language — is a living thing that evolves and migrates.
Special Beat Service is the album you intentionally pull out several times a year. It is a rock. It is a place to return.
That’s why I have chosen it for the album of the month.
Musical adventure, exploring new sounds, and sharing great music with great people make these discussions a joy.
Join us and see for yourself.
Listen:
The Beat | Special Beat Service (1982)
(Click the record to listen on your platform of choice)
From the archive: A quick look at Pere Ubu’s groundbreaking Cloudland album.
Good Morning!
Today as Round 1 of the Best Record of 1989 tourney wraps up, we’re taking a quick look at Pere Ubu’s Cloudland. This was originally published in May of last year to mark the record turning 35.
Most record collectors have a holy grail: the one record they hope to find above all others. For years, mine was Pere Ubu’s 1989 album, Cloudland.
I’d first found the record not too long after it came out. In the late 80s, CDs were still a novelty, but someone at our city library decided to go “all in” on them (thank you, whoever you are). It was delightfully eclectic as a place trying to be something for everyone. You truly never knew what you might find and rarely came out with exactly what you’d gone in looking for.
They’d put a lot of effort into procuring them but not nearly as much into keeping them organized, settling instead for a brittle system of roughly sorting by genre and hoping for the best. It was all a wonderful mess purpose-built for happy accidents.
One of those collisions was my onramp to the band.
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I would ride my bike there (Haro freestyle, thankyouverymuch) and spend hours flipping through the titles, picking not just names I knew but ones that looked, well, interesting. I’m sure there was an official limit on how many titles you could have checked out at once, but I usually defaulted to about 7-8, as that’s how many could fit in those heavy-duty plastic bags they gave you.
It was always easy to check this CD out. As much as I’d like to frame myself as some sort of tastemaker or just ahead of my time, the reality was that word traveled slowly from Cleveland. And the people who may have known them from work like “30 Seconds Over Tokyo” or their Dub Housing record were probably not hanging out in suburban Portland libraries.
This record has proven hard to find in subsequent years for a bunch of reasons. If I’m honest, had I known how many years I’d ultimately spend looking for this record, I might’ve just kept it, said I lost it and paid the fine. Nevertheless…
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It’s reductive to call the band avant-garde, but the band has done more to define the genre than most. Their sound combined elements of kraut rock, art, flurries of guitar, and frontman Dave Thomas’ odd yelps and yowls. Thomas’s vocals also ricochet between spoken word, a warbling, and actual singing, and the result is a mix of what we recognize as the structure of normal songs and wild sonic field trips. Along the way, Pere Ubu has created a sound that is often dissonant but always original.
You don’t listen to a Pere Ubu record; you experience it.
In 1987, after a several-year hiatus, the band reformed with what would be one of a bazillion lineup iterations and released The Tenement Year—a record with one foot firmly in the traditional realm of the band’s anarchic sound and the other edging toward a more palatable—if not quite radio-friendly—world.
If The Tenement Year represented dipping a toe into the world of Pop, Cloudland was a cannonball into the deep end of the pool. Stephen Hague (Pet Shop Boys, New Order, among others) was behind the boards and took everything the band had done to that point and proudly ignored it. Gone were the usual weapons-grade chaos, tangents, and noise. Instead, he helped corral the band’s usual wanderings into something much more cohesive and melodious. Experimentation was out, and flirting with formulas was in.
In other words, Hague helped Pere Ubu make something no one saw coming—a bona fide pop record.
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There are plenty of high water marks here. Through any other lens, “Race the Sun” and “Ice Cream Truck” would be boilerplate tracks, but Pere Ubu is nothing if not subversive, and the band puts their own odd magical touch on them almost in spite of themselves.
“Waiting For Mary” is the closest they’ve come yet to a hit, cracking the Modern Rock Tracks top 10. “Bus Called Happiness” is arguably the most pop song the band has ever—or will ever—create. It’s also this writer’s favorite and drove much of the multi-year quest to hunt this record down.
That’s not to say Hague finished the job. If Side A is as radio-friendly as it gets (certainly college radio, anyway), Side B assures fans that not all has been forgotten. There are plenty of odd loops and experimentation here on tracks like “Nevada” and “Monday Night,” maintaining a line to the rest of the band’s catalog.
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I wasn’t looking for Cloudland when I walked into my local record shop a couple of years ago—in fact, I rarely know what I’m looking for when I go in. And even when I do, I usually either toss that list, come up with something totally different, or both.
But the universe has a funny way of gifting you things when you least expect them. In much the same accidental way I came across their CD all those many years ago, I came across a vinyl copy, misfiled under the wrong letter.
Again, Pere Ubu can be an acquired taste. A friend and I saw them open for Pixies not too long after this came out. Going in, I’d bet we were 2 of only a handful of people eager to see them. Post-show, I doubt that number went up much. Their records can be hard to find, and even if/when you do, they are often inaccessible and occasionally unlistenable. The release was out of print forever, and a reissue appears to be missing a couple of tracks—even trying to find listening links for this article has proven to be a challenge.
But when they’re on, they’re on, and with Cloudland, Pere Ubu made a masterpiece.
📻📻📻
What are your thoughts on this record? Do you have any favorite tracks or memories associated with it? Where does it land on your list of Pere Ubu albums? Share your thoughts in the comments!
Thanks for being here,
Kevin—
Some light housekeeping:
Save the date! The date for this month’s Album of the Month Discussion will be on Sunday, the 24th, at 4 PM Eastern. This month’s discussion will be led by Vancouver-based Jessica Lee McMillan, whose previous presentation on Stereolab’s Dots and Loops was one for the ages. This time around, we’ll discuss Special Beat Service by The English Beat. These are always fun, but will be better with you there! Meeting Details:When: Sunday 24 Aug 2025 ⋅ 4pm — 6pm EST Zoom Meeting Link:. https://presby-edu.zoom.us/j/85339128617?pwd=MDfb510FCFXCayaFPNtatnLiUdEsey.1&jst=2
Today we’re taking a quick look at records from The Pogues and Nomeansno
Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d occasionally write some of these up.
I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably definitely be some typos.
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks are always appreciated.
KA—
The Pogues, Peace and Love
By the time Peace and Love dropped in the summer of 1989, the end of The Pogues was near. This was the moment the Pogues started to fall apart—and not in the sexy, myth-making way we like watching on rock docs. It was more like the ugly slow-motion collapse that happens in real life.
Everyone knew it was coming, but me. I wouldn’t find the band for a couple more years.
On a stereotypical dreary fall night in the midwestern college town where I live, a friend dragged me out for a night on the town. We’re gonna end up at a house party, he promised. The kind that you hear about from a friend of a friend whose buddy might know someone who actually lived there. This was an era of my life best described as “good music and bad decisions,” so of course I said yes. The night was as promised. To this day, I’ve never found a stronger Long Island than those served at Amy’s Cafe in Madison, WI. If you know of one, let me know. Actually, maybe you shouldn’t. Lol.
At any rate, we wind up at this house where a cover band is playing. I don’t know it yet, but they’re ripping through covers of The Pogues. I mean, tear the roof off the place, good. Of course, we’re a long way from the internet, and Shazam was still a cartoon character (or the name of an ATM if you’re from Iowa), so I finally had to ask. I was also the last person to hear about the band (The Kissers) and who they were covering. This could have gone all kinds of wrong, but the girl I asked was all too excited to tell me all about both. The next day, I went to Borders (RIP) and grabbed a copy of their Waiting For Herb record.
But before all of that, there was peace and Love. The record was their fourth, and (with hindsight) the one where the wheels start coming off. You could hear it in Shane MacGowan’s voice, which had gone from a cute, kinda feral to ghostly mumbling through a megaphone. It was the sound of a man’s liver and central nervous system teaming up to sabotage his own genius. You could hear it in the songs, too.
And yet—and yet—somehow, Peace and Love isn’t the disaster it probably should be. Even with all of that as a backdrop, it holds up better than many post-peak albums from great bands. Shane might’ve been fading, but the rest of the band came out swinging. “Young Ned of the Hill” and “Gartloney Rats,” both feel brand new and 200 years old (not derogatory). Philip Chevron gave us “Lorelei,” which aches in all the right places and blends melodrama with power pop without falling apart at the seams. If nothing else, you can say this: Peace and Love was from a band that still had something left to say—if not to prove.
Musically, they pushed the envelope just enough. A surprisingly jazzy, noirish thing is happening on “Gridlock,” there’s some rockabilly, and even (check notes) calypso? It’s messy, sure, but it’s a good messy. The messy that only happens when a band still gives a f**k—even if their lead singer’s interests are elsewhere.
Peace and Love isn’t Rum, Sodomy & the Lash or If I Should Fall from Grace with God. It’s not even Waiting for Herb (my fave). It may not be their finest hour. But it is the moment when the rest of the Pogues stood up, picked up the slack, and kept the thing going, if only for a bit longer.
NoMeansno, Wrong
We ended last week with a trip to Canada, and kicked this week off with some Fugazi. So it only seems fitting that we’d wind up here with a band that reminds one of a Canadian version of the band. Wrong is a wild ride through some unhinged riffs, drum beats that make no sense on paper, and choruses that range from “pop punk” to “screamed at you.” The ingredients make for a tasty mix, albeit one that’s an acquired taste.
My vote: I banked on a dollop of name recognition and a dash of sentimental value, and voted for The Pogues.
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!
The Best Record of 1989, Day 61: #11 Fugazi, 13 Songs vs. #118 Paul McCartney, Flowers in the Dirt.
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a quick look at records from Fugazi and Paul McCartney
Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d occasionally write some of these up.
I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably definitely be some typos.
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks are always appreciated.
Note: Today’s piece on Fugazi draws heavily from this one I wrote as part of our Top 100 Records series from last year. That article specifically discussed the Repeater LP, but if anything, my feeling for the band itself has only grown in the months since.
KA—
Fugazi, 13 Songs
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 that record…
Before the postcards from Pedantry Place start filling my mailbox, yes, I know 13 Songs is technically the combo of Fugazi’s self-titled and Margin Walker EPs. So does almost everyone else reading this. You should also know that Margin Walker itself barely missed the cut to be in the tourney. A tourney that somehow has Godflesh and Cardiacs. In other words, I’m just happy this one’s here. No Fugazi would’ve been a real injustice.
At any rate, the short version is this: before they’d even released an LP proper (the incredible Repeater), they had already made a statement record (or two, really) that were then combined to make this, kicking off a decade-plus run of statement records and declarative statements.
If you know nothing else about this band, you likely know the bassline/intro to “Waiting Room.” By this point, it’s been in everything from viral clips of kids covering it at bandcamp to Metallica briefly playing it on stage during one of the “jamming” sessions they do at every show.
The record is also home to “Bulldog Front” and “Promises,” both blistering, both taking aim at something and taking no prisoners. Perhaps more than anything, Fugzai is best at demolishing someone or something (shitty friends, sexism, rampant consumerism), and doing it to one of the funkiest beats to NOT come from an 808.
It’s also worth mentioning that, as iconic as the “Waiting Room” bass line is, it’s not the only one of note here; “Bad Mouth” is another one. The chunky riffs on Margin Walker are infectious.
Who else but this band could get us to sing along to lines like:
Untraceable, untranslatable I can’t explain all I ever wanted to do Trajectory passing right through me Threads my needle sends it right to you.
They can be preachy, sure, but it’s all for a good cause, and all set to a great sound. The music is softer than that of predecessor bands like Rites of Spring and Minor Threat, but if anything, the message is stronger. And it’s important to note that none of these records were promoted as usual- no merch, no guest hosting on 120 Minutes, etc. The entire thing was built on word of mouth, flyers on telephone poles, and blistering shows for the unheard of (even then) price of $5. This felt subversive in 1989. In 2025, it feels downright revolutionary. And in a lot of ways, it was.
On paper, Fugazi is still a band. In reality, they’ve been on hiatus for over twenty years now. Occasionally, a rumor pops up that they’ve again left money on the table by refusing to reunite to play a festival. Sometimes, there are even whispers that they’re getting back together. But nothing has come of it yet, and most of it is just white noise and/or wishful thinking.
Again, I’m going off memory, but I also recall the shows being played with just regular lights. Other than them coming up and going down, nothing changed throughout the setlist- no color, no nothing. The spotlight was on the music itself. Fugazi wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Paul McCartney, Flowers in the Dirt
My grandmother liked to go to the movies, and we had an informal deal; sometimes I got to pick, and sometimes she did. That s how we ended up seeing Breakin’2 in the theaters, but also how we wound up enduring “Give My Regards to Broadstreet,” whose soundtrack was, well, not well regarded. It gave us one “okay” hit (“No More Lonely Nights” and the rest of the film is probably best left forgotten. This is a long way of saying that the 80s were not McCartney’s best era.
Like a kid doing a great final project to salvage a grade after a term of sleeping through class, Flowers in the Dirt was a good—not great—record to end the decade. I don’t know if I’d consider it a comeback per se, but it’s close enough.
The most notable thing here is the collaboration with Elvis Costello. The two worked side by side in the studio, with some tracks ending up here and some going to Costello’s records (including “Veronica”). This pairing works better than I would ‘ve thought. I get that both are from Liverpool, travel in similar musical circles, etc. I guess I didn’t expect them to click the way they did. To me, Costello has always had just the right amount of cynicism, while McCartney has seemed sunny to a fault (I realize this doesn’t necessarily reflect reality, only my interpretations of their respective catalogs). In 2017, the record was re-released as a ‘special edition,’ and those bonus tracks/demos/outtakes are even better than the original. That doesn’t happen too often.
My vote: Shame that McCartney is up against one of my favorite records of all time here. Flowers in the Dirt was far more enjoyable than I’d expected—enough so that I did a quick search to see if any copies were “priced to move” on Discogs. The winner here also (I think?) will have a relatively easy next match, facing either The Pogues or Nomeansno in Round 2. That said, there are countless people whose lives were changed by The Beatles. Fugazi changed mine, and that’s who’ll be getting my vote today.
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!
Good morning! Need an antidote for the algorithms? Looking for a place to share the music you love with like-minded people? You’re in the right spot.
As always, thank you to those who upgraded their subscriptions this past week. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts also help! Thank you!
When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:
For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing.
The playlist below is some of what I’ve had in heavy rotation. This week, it is again overindexed on new (like, brand new) releases from the likes of OSEES, San Gabriel, and Field Hospitals—always a good thing! There are also a couple of faves from
Overlooked outside of Canada, The Tragically Hip is worth a second listen
Good morning!
Today Graham Strong’s taking the wheel and is talking about The Tragically Hip’s Up to Here.
Today we’re lucky to have friend of On Repeat RecordsGraham Strongsharing his thoughts on The Tragically Hip’s album, Up to Here. If you’re not already familiar with his work, Graham is the man behind To Write With Wild Abandon, where he helps writers overcome obstacles and emphasizes having fun along the way. It’s a never miss newsletter, and his work is well worth your time! When you’re done here, please check it out!
Today, Graham’s making his case for why Up to Here deserves to be in the running for Best Record of 1989. I’m happy to have him; this is a band that for whatever reason has always been a bit of a blind spot for me. One of these days, I’ll do a deep dive into their discography and see what I know I’ve been missing. In the meantime, I’m happy to have an expert fan weigh in!
And with that, I’ll get out of the way…
KA—
How would I describe The Tragically Hip?
Imagine a band that can grab you like Elvis, Bruce Springsteen’s power and patriotism, Paul Simon’s poetic lyrics, and the Rolling Stones’ straight, thumping rock songs that beg to be turned up to 11.
“Oh, that’s over-hyping them,” you might say. But I’d reply no, that’s exactly how fans might describe The Tragically Hip. Let me explain why.
Unless you grew up in Canada when The Tragically Hip first started playing, it’s hard to understand the full impact of this band. It baffles me that, except for a few pockets around the world, people outside of Canada don’t seem to get the Hip. It’s like the Beatles showed up in New York one August evening after taking over the world, and everyone in summery Central Park just stood there and stared, unable to make heads or tails…
My sense from the comment sections of On Repeat Records is that the readers here are more open to things that are different. So I’ll tell you why I think the Hip’s debut full-length album, Up to Here, released on September 5, 1989, deserves to be on the list of the best albums of that year – and why you should give them a listen.
A short bio: The Tragically Hip formed in 1984 in Kingston, Ontario, about three hours east of Toronto. The line-up from left to right on the Up to Here album cover: Gord Downie, singer, lyricist, and frontman; Gord Sinclair, bass and back-up vocals; Johnny Fay, drums; Rob Baker, lead guitar; and Paul Langlois, rhythm guitar and back-up vocals. They started as one of those hard-working bar bands who showed up no matter how far the drive through the night, playing throughout southern Ontario before touring across Canada and into the States and Europe.
After a successful EP, the band recorded Up to Here at Ardent Studios in Memphis. Until this point, the Hip hadn’t broken out, even in Canada. But four singles from the album changed that: the sometimes soft, sometimes loud “Blow at High Dough” (great album opener), the straight-out rocking “New Orleans is Sinking” (my favourite song of all time), the bluesy “Boots or Hearts”, and the Canadiana ballad, “38 Years Old.”
The Rolling Stones comparison from above is apt for this album. Many of the songs are hard-edged, bluesy rockers. You’d be forgiven if you mistook the opening to “Trickle Down” as a Stones song.
But the important thing – and what makes this album so important – is that the proto-DNA of what would become the Hip is already percolating underneath the familiar rock beats. As all good bands do, they would mature as songwriters, but this album laid a solid foundation. For example, even Stones-y “Trickle Down” features chord changes that are undeniably Hip. And that’s not all – the lyrics, the tight-but-loose playing style, the social commentary, the Canadianess… It’s all there in those first vinyl grooves.
Ah yes, and there’s their so-called Achilles’ heel – being too Canadian for international markets. That comment always bugged me. Here’s the thing: you don’t have to get the Canadian references to enjoy the songs. Many Canadians didn’t even get them until they were pointed out. They’re just… lyrics.
But, great lyrics. Wow, what a poet Gord Downie was! Like the rest of the album, his lyrics on Up to Here are proto, but the story in “38 Years Old” – imagined from a real jailbreak near Kingston – has incredible impact in just 275 words, eight of which are repeated five times. That takes talent.
Here’s another example from “Opiated”, the last track on the album:
He bought two-fifths of lead-free gasoline. Said, “The bottle is dusty, but my engine is clean.” He bought a nice blue suit with the money he could find. If his bride didn’t like it, St. Peter wouldn’t mind.
Nothing earth-shattering. And at least one line pulls from another song – The Grateful Dead’s “Brown-Eyed Woman.” But for the debut album of a straight-rocking band? None too shabby, either. Makes Robert Frost’s snowy woods look like a stroll through the park.
Up to Here made the Hip instant rock stars. The album went Platinum with 100,000 units sold in the first six months (hey, we have a tenth of the US population) and Diamond within 10 years (1,000,000 records). They won a Juno, the equivalent of a Grammy in Canada, for “Most Promising Artist” in 1990.
They certainly lived up to the award. The Tragically Hip’s popularity exploded in the 1990s. The band released 12 more studio albums in their career (10 reached Platinum or higher) and they made an appearance on SNL in 1995.
But their live shows were where they really rocked. Probably the best Hip concert I saw was at Grandma’s Sports Bar in Duluth, Minnesota, with 997 raving fans from Thunder Bay, Ontario, and three or four locals wondering what the hell was going on… The Tragically Hip remained a bar band in spirit to the end.
And that’s what Up to Here is: a great bar-band album that is solid in its own right, but also a glimpse of the amazing things to come.
Gord Downie died in 2017 from a rare form of brain cancer, gutting millions of fans. Just like Elvis’ death did, just as John Lennon’s. Except for a couple of special one-offs, the band doesn’t have the heart to play with a new singer à la Queen or Journey. I don’t blame them.
Their music, of course, is still there for the listening. Spotify now has a preview button that will give you a good taste of the album, if you want to zip through tracks. But if you’re looking to sample full songs, I’d go with the singles in the order they appear on the album: “Blow at High Dough,” “New Orleans is Sinking,” “38 Years Old,” and “Boots or Hearts.” There’s not a bad song here, but those may be the most approachable for the first-time listener.
Oh, and one more thing. Crank your headphones to 11. Like I say, the songs are begging for it.
Graham Strong is a freelance writer and die-hard Hip fan. He writes about the common pitfalls and fears writers face, and how to overcome them on his Substack site, To Write with Wild Abandon.
Kevin here again:
Thanks to Graham for his time and for sharing his thoughts on The Tragically Hip, and to you for being here.
My vote: Today’s matchup sees The Hip taking on the much higher-seeded Seeds of Love by Tears for Fears. My bracket pick was a straight play for the higher seed (and the record I’d actually heard.) As for my vote today? I’m on the fence, but leaning toward underdog; Graham’s made a pretty compelling case for Up To Here. It’s great album- turns out I really have been missing out!
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!
The Best Record of 1989, Day 59: #27 Fine Young Cannibals, The Raw and the Cooked vs. #102 Godflesh, Streetcleaner
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a quick look at records from Fine Young Cannibals and Godflesh
Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d occasionally write some of these up.
I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably definitely be some typos.
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks are always appreciated.
KA—
Fine Young Cannibals, The Raw and the Cooked
Going into this review, my biggest question was, “Is it any good?” I knew the ubiquitous “She Drives Me Crazy” and “Good Thing.” I also vaguely remembered “I’m Not Satisfied” and “Baby Don’t Look Back” and vaguely recalled liking them.
My biggest question afterward was, How do you classify this record? And why had I not bothered with it all these years? Okay, that’s two questions, but both fair ones. Honestly, I have zero idea how to classify this album. There’s ska, Motown-era influence, a Buzzcocks cover, and everything in between.
FWIW, that cover was featured in the movie Something Wild, and a few other tracks were featured in other films. Even the band name was taken from a movie title.
Fine Young Cannibals — which included former members of The Beat, Andy Cox and David Steele, and vocalist Roland Gift — weren’t exactly straight out of central casting when it came to hit makers, but here we are. Steele and Cox had already cracked the chart code before with tracks like “Mirror in the Bathroom” and “Save It for Later,” but it turns out what would be their biggest hit almost didn’t happen.
The Cannibals—Roland, Andy and David—sent me songs through email for a few weeks and we decided on a list.”
One song was titled “She’s My Baby,” which David Z loved. The band, however, appeared less than enthused: “When they said it was rubbish and they wanted to throw it away, I told them I wouldn’t want to work with them unless we did that song,” Z said, “They reworked the lyrics and came up with ‘She Drives Me Crazy.’ Everyone I know could feel that way—and has.”
Lucky for us, it was released. With that sharp snare hit, a stripped-down arrangement, and Roland Gift’s now-iconic falsetto, we got the sort of right song at the right time that comes along about every 10 years or so.
The much more straightforward “Don’t Look Back” peaked at #11, while the fifth and final single, “I’m Not Satisfied,” only reached an anemic #90. Shame, really, as it deserves to be heard by a much wider audience.
This would (more or less) mark the end of the line for the band; they split up a few years later before recording a follow-up LP. But before that, we got the Raw and the Cooked- a record that is, well, a good thing (sorrynotsorry)
Don’t be me: If you haven’t checked outThe Raw and the Cooked yet, do yourself a favor and give it a listen. Albums that nail that perfect mix of art and pop, old school and new school, don’t come around too often.
Godflesh, Streetcleaner
Oh, hey, sludgy riffs and ghoulish vocals labeled as “post metal.” Fun! Man, what a letdown after listening to FYC. I hope whoever nominated this got the help they needed.
Okay, that’s maybe a bit unfair. I can appreciate the way they blend metal and industrial genres here, and they’ve done well to paint a dystopian hellscape, but this feels like something a SWAT team would play on a loop to coax a suspect out of a house. Hard pass.
My vote: Ever fallen in love with a record you hadn’t heard in a while? You can never have too much of a good thing. I’m not gonna look back when I vote for FYC.
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 