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.
For a hot minute, I had a weird streak going: I’d make the drive from Portland to Seattle and tune into 107.7 The End as soon as it came in. And sure as shit, every time I did, I’d hear The Clash’s “Train in Vain.” They certainly made more tracks than that, and certainly made ones that are more resonant, but my point here (besides some musing about the universe working in mysterious ways) is that it was incredibly catchy and stuck with you long after you heard it. It felt like Mssr. Strummer, Jones, Headon, and Simonon could do no wrong. Then came the split, Cut the Crap, and the most important band in the world suddenly… wasn’t.
Flash forward a couple of years, and Strummer starts writing some songs and playing with the Mescaleros. There’s a record. Rock and the X-ray Style? Not his best work. To be fair, I think the world held him to a high- even if unfair- bar. And maybe this first one was needed to get his sea legs again.
Whatever, the second act would have to wait a bit.
So along comes Global a Go-Go, and it’s clear that Strummer has spent his time shaping the corners. This is an amorphous record that comes across like everyone brought some ideas to the garage just to see what might happen. Remember when you were a kid, and the fixins bar at Fuddruckers seemed like a dare? Yeah, like that. (Just me? Oh. Okay.)
At any rate, all of these elements make for what is often diplomatically called a ‘challenging listening.” It’s catchy in parts, and there are a few spots where I caught myself catching the groove, but it doesn’t have the cohesion of something like Train in Vain or Rock the Casbah. And that’s fine! At this point, the days of Combat Rock were firmly in the rearview mirror. At the same time, I can’t help but wonder if having someone keep him in check a little bit would’ve helped. I mean, an almost 18-minute track to wind things up? C’mon. Some sort of editorial guidance (for lack of a better term) could’ve elevated this from simply interesting to really good.
You know, the kind of thing you hope is playing when you turn your radio on.
While Strummer & the Mescaleros come across as serious musicians trying not to be taken seriously, The Beta Band seems just the opposite. Hot Shots II is also a sprawling, throw-everything-in-the-mixer kind of thing. But sometimes a soufflé collapses in on itself. Every time I thought, “Ah, here we go!” something would shift… or, worse, an annoying crackle or pop that set off my misophonia. Maybe I’d like this better if I still got high? I dunno…
Bottom Line: On Bluesky, someone posted that Strummer should win everything this week, and I’m all in on that. Global a Go-Go 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!
One of my mom’s favorite stories to tell is about the time she managed to grab some Star Wars action figures for me as a kid. This was at the peak of the (first) movie’s fame, and to hear her tell it, it was something like emerging victorious from a great battle. The reality is that she worked at a clothing store, and her boss let her bail a little early so she could walk down to a nearby toy store. I was never the biggest Star Wars fan (please don’t @ me), but I like this version. It’s early in the AM as I type this, but I can’t remember anything so consuming us collectively in recent years.
Every year, I snort at the Dave Brubeck memes and tell myself I should put on one of his records….and every year, I’m reminded I don’t actually own any. Why my mind thinks I do, I don’t know. Maybe next year?
So, May 4th is a day for Star Wars (and Dave Brubeck!) memes, but it is also Sluttering Day—half celebration, half inside joke enjoyed by Jawbreaker fans the world over. I will definitely be putting on one of their records today. Of course, that happens most days, but that wasn’t always the case with Dear You. Depending on where you were when it came out, most people were consumed with the idea that they’d sold out. I’m as guilty as anyone, but tbh, that was our loss. That record is fantastic.
No Cantina Theme, Jawbreaker, or Brubeck on this list. But we do have the latest from TV Star, Dari Bay, Me at the Zoo, The Level, and Weird Nightmare (among others), as well as a good dose of the usual sonic comfort food.
Whichever one you’re celebrating today, I hope it’s filled with some killer sounds!
This week, Side A is tracks 1-16 (ends with “Lately”). Side B is tracks 17-31.
Today we’re taking a look at Lucinda Williams’ Essence as it faces off against Superchunk’s Here’s to Shutting Up.
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—
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 2001: I drive a Corolla, and while I’m not quite at the stage where I call out every sign I pass, it’s close. I’m only 26, but well on my way to becoming old before my time. 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).
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 anyone who claims this as their 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 was the right record for them to make at the time.
With Williams, I’m at a bit of a disadvantage here as the music I was listening to wasn’t her speed. Or rather, her music wasn’t mine. At this point in my life, I preferred louder, harder, faster, more from my stereo, whether that was in the form of a band like Bad Religion, or a high BPM count from (insert techno band here). My friend circle also had a total of zero fans of singer-songwriters. In other words, there was no one there to get a record like Essence on my radar, let alone make the case why I might like it (tbh, it likely would’ve been a few years too early, but I’d have come around). It’s also likely that whoever would’ve been making this hypothetical case would’ve been influenced by the record that came before it: Car Wheels on a Gravel Road. A record that has come to be almost required listening for anyone looking to pen a song or two.
Williams released that record in 1998 after scrapping multiple versions to hit a mix of country, rock, and blues. It (rightfully, IMO) earned her acclaim and it influenced generations of songwriters while defining the Americana genre. Essence is the follow-up, and was a radical departure from those expectations.
Essence is much more spare, plain-spoken, and down-tempo. After the high-profile success of her previous work, this record reads as a weird turn. The problem—or rather my problem—is that this is a gentle record made in an era where there wasn’t much space given to such things. Even though I wasn’t listening to singer-songwriter stuff in any meaningful capacity, I had carved out exceptions (see also: John Hiatt). The kicker was it had to have a little oomph. I wanted a track that sounded good while burning up the interstate, not one that evokes images of looking out the window thinking about things. I could see “Out of Touch” fitting the former, but I have to squint to do it.
In a broader sense, this fits in well with what singers like Sarah McLachlan were doing at the time. In other words, writing incredible songs only to set them to what was often lukewarm music.
If there’s any sort of miscarriage of justice here, it’s that Williams also writes incredibly well. It’s a rare talent that can squish an entire story into a verse or two. She was recently included on the NYT list of 30 Greatest Living American Songwriters, and whether you agree with the premise of these sorts of things, it’s hard to argue her warranting a place on there. Essence feels like an odd turn for someone who never really made them.
Bottom Line: I think Williams will carry the day with the voting crowd, and my bracket pick reflects that. However, my vote will likely go to our friends from North Carolina.
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 21- Rilo Kiley vs. Blink 182
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at Rilo Kiley’s Takeoffs and Landings as it faces off against Blink-182’s Take Off Your Pants and Jacket.
Takeoffs and Landings vs. Take Off Your Pants and Jacket. There’s a joke in there somewhere…
Listening to Rilo Kiley’s 2004 track “Portions for Foxes,” it’s hard to believe how much difference just three years makes. It’s loud, full of bombast, and chock full of whatever it is that makes self-defined “music people” stroke their chins and nod approvingly. Whatever. It’s just a great song.
That sort of thing is nowhere to be found on Takeoffs & Landings. Following a well-received EP, this was their shot at showing the world who they were and what they could do. And at the time, what they could apparently do was the same sort of purpose-built-for-coffee-shops stuff a lot of other bands were doing.
I once made a glib remark that “indie folk” was the most overused term in PR circles, with seemingly everyone using it to describe the release they were shopping. What I have in mind when I think of indie folk is a track like opener “Go Ahead,” with its fingerpicked guitar and twee lyrics. It’s upbeat enough, I guess, with lines like but they’ve always struck me as too clever by half.
If you know me, you know I’m an avgeek, so I’ll take any aviation reference I can get. Title aside, the line “Sometimes, planes, they crash up in the sky/ Sometimes, lonely hearts, they just get lonelier” on “Wires and Waves” is a helluva couplet, if horribly timed. “Science vs. Romance” is the best track here. I know the band caught flak for playing it on Dawson’s Creek, but hey—might as well shoot your shot, right? And besides; it’s not like other bands weren’t doing it at the time. Maybe that was the idea being passed around PR circles back then.
The idea of escape feels like it’s hovering over the whole record, but it’s hard to buy Lewis & co. as truly going through it. What we get instead feels like their idea of what that might sound like. Unfair, maybe—but it’s hard to ignore, especially knowing what came after. Compared to later records, there’s a lack of firepower here, a more subdued approach. It’s not bad, and it’s not boring. It just feels…not quite there yet.
Maybe it’s first-record jitters. Maybe they hadn’t fully hit their stride. It is, after all, the start of a really solid three-year run. Either way, this feels like one that could’ve stayed in the hangar a little longer. That said: “Science vs. Romance” → “Wires and Waves” → “Pictures of Success” is a fantastic three-track run. If only the whole record kept that momentum…
If Takeoffs and Landings is the start of a run for Rilo Kiley, TOYPAJ (I will never not use this acronym) is the end of one for Blink-182—or at least the end of the beginning. Dude Ranch → Enema of the State → this—that’s basically the band’s whole early arc: novelty, hitting their stride, hearing the joke one too many times.
The good news is there’s no real drop-off from Enema. If anything, it holds steady. But the writing’s on the wall. For as insufferable as self-serious indie writers can be, frat-boy heroes have their own expiration date.
It’s probably better to think of this as a transition record. Can a band built on pop punk and porn star cover art pivot to something heavier? Maybe. Yeah, actually. But they’re not there yet. TOYPAJ sits right at that inflection point, balancing the juvenile stuff with some genuinely solid writing. And it helps that it’s all delivered in family-sized, hooky doses of pop punk.
There’s still room for the raunchy jokes (see also: “Happy Holidays, You Bastard”), and making that kind of thing work is harder than it looks. Even if the joke’s wearing thin, they’ve still got some runway left.
Earlier this week I quipped on Bluesky that I never thought I’d write “Blink-182 will be a refreshing change.” I was only half-joking—but after a couple more listens, I stand by it. TOYPAJ might not be regarded as a “timeless classic” in most circles, but outside those gates, it still hits.
Bottom Line: The easy point to make here is that this comes down to taste. Do you like loud rowdy sounds, or do you prefer a more twee experience? I think one’s answer will depend a lot of their age. “What’s My Age Again,” amirite?
Put another way, I think anyone who had aged out of things like the Warped Tour by ‘01 will land solidly on the side of Jenny Lewis & co., where as a younger cohort— and I don’t think it takes all that great of divide; maybe just a few years?— will remember Blink-182 a lot more fondly. As for me, I’m not a fan of getting older (So this is growing up), but I am solidly in the former camp. Rilo Kiley 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!
My usual record store is on the other side of town from me. That’s just enough friction to prevent me from going bankrupt, but not enough to keep me away for more than a week or two at a time.
I’ve mentioned it before, but there is another, smaller, store right by me though — as in close enough to walk to. The only thing I have going for me is that it specializes in metal-a genre I’m not too interested in — and operates on irregular hours. This is truly a passion project, and the owner works in running the store when he can.
Like many shops, he’s taken to social media to tout new arrivals into the store. Most of the time I don’t recognize the covers and can’t read the script on the covers (what is it with metal bands all using the same unreadable font?).
This time was different. Over the past week there was a drip campaign (or whatever they’re called) about RSD— except he was pointing out that they’d only have a couple of RSD records…but also why not come in and grab some other metal/punk/whatever?
The store itself used to be a hole in the wall- literally. it occupied the space between two buildings, with a ~300 sq ft. room on one side towards the back. It was tiny, and fantastic.
And honestly, it still is. They’ve moved into one of the actual spots out front, but the place can still get packed, with everyone digging through different racks. With close quarters like this, you can’t really stand back to back, and instead have to stand just off to the side and reach over. Anywhere else, and I’d declare it too people-y and bail. But I’ve always rooted for this store, and so seeing it full makes me smile. And the line can get long too. That’s partly down to the owner chatting with everyone about what they’re picking up. A 4-5 minute chat about forgotten Dischord bands and Midwest tours? That’s not something you’re gonna get on Amazon. At Safeway this would be obnoxious. Here, it’s part of the appeal.
I almost always go 0-for-everything when it comes to what I walked in looking for. But this is a record store, a place full of things you don’t know you need until you come across them. Sometimes that’s vinyl. Sometimes it’s a chat about shows that happened years ago.
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This week’s list over indexes on old favorites, but we’ve also got new stuff from Wire (from RSD), Memorials, Kurt Vile, Rural France, Caroline in the Garden, and Maybe So.
This week, Side A is tracks 1-16 (ends with “Roadrunner”). Side B is tracks 17-31.
I don’t watch a lot of TV series, but when I find something I like, I’m all in. Very few shows get to this rarefied air for me- mostly because I have the attention span of a fruit fly. To get me to sit down and stare at a screen (without scrolling) for an hour? Are you kidding me? The Americans did it for me. Mad Men before that. More recently, I’ve gone all in on The Pitt. The first season felt like one long car crash (which it kind of was; it takes place in an ER). This time around is a slow burn and more focused on the staff themselves. All have their flaws, and there’s a hierarchy of angels and villains coming clearer into view with each episode. So yeah, Santos can still F off, but my point here is that somehow, despite the nonstop firehose of chaos, they keep finding a way to push through. There’s a real resilience to these people, and given what’s happening today (waves have literally everything), there’s a lesson in there.
Sometimes the indignities are on a grand scale. sometimes, a smaller one, like a shitty commute. When I was a union rep, we’d often crib a phrase from an earlier era: “one day longer.” It was shorthand for “nothing good comes easy or quickly. You’ve just got to outlast your opponent. A better tomorrow is just over the horizon.”
There’s a lesson in that, too. And while no one can fix the bigger problems alone, we can at least make your morning commute a little bit better.
This week, we’ve got new stuff from Arlo Parks, Prism Shores, Paul Bergmann, Girl Scout, and Parlor Greens, along with a good dose of old favorites like Roxy Music, That Dog, and Velocity Girl. My abiding hope is that someday people will come around to Copacetic. One day…
This week, Side A is tracks 1-15 (ends with “Same Kids”). Side B is tracks 16-27.
One of the things that makes records special are the backstories behind them. I don’t mean the songs or albums themselves (though those are often great). I mean *our* stories with them. How we found the record. What was happening in our lives when we first heard them? Maybe it soundtracked an awkward junior high dance. Maybe an album got you through a rough patch or bad breakup. Or it kept you company on roadtrips and roads not traveled. Maybe you made what in hindsight was a horrible decision to take 21 college credits your last year of school, and needed a little oomph to get through it. No? Just me? Okay.
My point is that part of why we love the songs we do goes far beyond notes and a hook. It anchors a specific time and place in our lives.
For example, I can’t hear The Call without being taken right back to central California, where the sun was relentless, and I-5 stretched on into infinity. Electronic reminds me of racing to Tower Records on my bike to get the album the second it came out (tape first, then CD). I was introduced to Joe Jackson by way of my dad’s car radio, and now he evokes memories of record shopping with my son in Minneapolis. Califone came thanks to a friend (also from The Cities) giving me the proverbial “you gotta hear this” speech about an earlier record. Deep Sea Diver? That’s thanks to several of you right here in the community.
And that’s just a few of mine from the list above. As you share what’s been in your heavy rotation, I’d love to hear any backstory or backstories behind them.
This week, Side A is tracks 1-12 (ends with “Leisure”). Side B is tracks 13-27.
It’s overdriven pop vs. minimalist country as Ash takes on Gillian Welch
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—
Ash – Free All Angels
Coming into Free All Angels, I expected a blast of guitars and that familiar late‑90s angsty….or something like 3 Doors Down. Honestly, I had no idea what I was in for (I know! I know!). What I didn’t expect at all was how bright and melodic this record sounds. Ash lean hard into pop hooks and glossy production, and it suits them nicely. Open “Walking Barefoot” bounces with energy, driven by big choruses and a reckless sense of fun. The band shifts from power‑pop charm to radio-friendly and back again, without losing its edge. The vocals are gritty, but the melodies push the songs toward the sunny side of the road, not garage rock.
What stands out most is how clean the songwriting feels. Every track swings for immediacy; nothing drags or hides behind fuzz. It’s all overdrive, man. Even when the themes turn darker, the delivery keeps the songs moving with a lift in tone. By the time “Shining Light” and “Burn Baby Burn” hit, it feels like Ash translating youthful frustration into something almost joyous.
This album captures a band embracing melody without apology. I don’t know what Ash was chasing with Free All Angels, but they found it in sing‑along choruses and unguarded optimism. It’s brash, catchy, and a bit sentimental. All the things! It reminds me of someone fondly looking back at a summer stay at the beach.
Gillian Welch- Time (the Revelator)
In the run-up to the bracket kicking off, this came up as a record people should check out ahead of time. There’s usually a lot of those, of course — everyone’s fighting their corner and wants their pet picks to be heard. That’s half the fun! But rarely does someone else chime in and say (really, really paraphrasing here) “If you haven’t heard this record, you haven’t heard music.” I know I butchered that, but what was unmistakable was the endorsement. You gotta love it when someone goes to the mat for a record, book, whatever. So, being one of the people who had somehow made it to 50 without ever (knowingly) hearing Welch, I had to see what the fuss was.
Turns out “Gillian Welch” isn’t just Gillian. It’s her and David Rawlings — her musical and life partner. Welch takes the lead on these songs, her voice steady and unhurried, while Rawlings floats around her with a dry, golden guitar tone.
Time (The Revelator) is ten country songs about heartache, and it’s a fantastic thanks to the duo’s next-level songwriting.
A few songs in, and I would’ve bet my house that Welch was from somewhere like West Virginia — one of those places in a holler that looks to Beckley as the “big city.” Imagine my surprise to learn she’s from L.A. That’s a heck of a pastiche. But the authenticity is never in doubt. These are her and Rawlings putting their all into these songs, and it shows. These aren’t my bag, but I get why the poster said what they did. I suspect that by the time we get through all 64 of the first-round matchups, more than a couple of records will have been flung onto the “sounds of its time” heap. This won’t be one of ’em. Time isn’t holding us, time isn’t after us. Turns out, time is a revelator (and a timeless record).
Bottom Line: Both of these are solid outings. I went with Welch primarily on the endorsement I opened this post with and a little name recognition. I have a feeling this one could easily go either way.
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 
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