Tag: review

The Best Record of 2001: Day 15

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 2001: Day 15

Andrew Bird’s Bowl of Fire vs. The Coup

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at Swimming Hour by Andrew Bird’s Bowl of Fire as it takes on The Coup’s Party Music.

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—

The Coup- Party Music

Earlier this week, I was listening to the Will’s Band of the Week podcast, and in the “banter” part of this episode, one of the hosts was talking about listening to another podcast (meta meta, I know!). That episode covered the discography of one of his favorite bands (Apples in Stereo), and partway through it hit him that he’d never heard one of the records being discussed. This, of course, was much more normal back in the day than it is now. Maybe a new release came out when you were broke. Maybe you were still so into the previous one that you weren’t ready for the next record. Whatever the reason, it could usually betied back to bad timing.

Speaking of which…

We can’t get too far here without acknowledging the album’s cover. The original artwork was a photo of Boots and Pam standing in front of the WTC as it exploded. It was originally slated for a September 11th release. You can imagine how this went (spoiler: not well at all). Riley’s spent a lot of time and energy explaining that it was a metaphor for tearing down the systems that hold us down, and that music is a powerful weapon to tear down those walls. He also doubled down on it all, mentioning more than once that the censoring of the cover was in response to the political climate and not any sort of empathy or sympathy. Where do you see that as staying true to one’s beliefs or stepping on a rake? I’ll leave it to you. Either way, you can also imagine how often this has fallen on deaf ears.

The cover might’ve been altered—it’s now a close-up shot of a drink on fire (a Molotov cocktail. Get it? (nudge nudge)—the music inside is as white hot as ever.
Party Music consists of twelve funky slices of politically conscious body-moving music. Their tracks blend punk, funk, disco, and hip hop into a monster palette for their self-described revolutionary Communist frontman, Boots Riley. No one is safe.

“Those in the crosshairs police (Pork and Beef), the government, ‘Ride the Fence’, and anyone else that falls under the umbrella label of ‘the man’ (most everywhere else). That could be any number of hip hop records, really, but what Riley does well is steer away from just sort of blindly swinging at whoever is pissing him off today. There’s an upbeat vibe to it all, and in any revolution, the key ingredient is hope. Party Music might not be music for a party, but it’s perfect for a party takedown. Maybe even at a party while taking down the party in power. Imagine people singing (and dancing to) the chorus to “The Guillotine” (off 2012’s Sorry to Bother You) at the next No Kings rally!

Poor timing and that cover cursed this record to trivia status. Most “best of” discussions skip over it. They shouldn’t. The original cover art might not stand up, but the message sure does.

Andrew Bird’s Bowl of Fire- The Swimming Hour

If you’re pressed for time, here’s the TL; DR: A lot of bands go genre hopping in a way that feels like voyeur tourism or slather it in so much irony and cynicism as to overtake the whole thing. There are bands whose entire discography is built on this quicksand!

Andrew Bird doesn’t strike me that way at all. What makes the record stand out is the total absence of that nonsense. It feels curious, playful, and open-hearted in a way that one just didn’t see in 2001 (or today, for that matter). Whatever bands like Bowling for Soup and Alien Ant Farm are, this is the opposite.

Listening along, I keep seeing this vision of a guy who enjoys a bunch of different genres and just wants to try ‘em out in the studio to see what happens. It feels natural instead of gimmicky.

Not every song works for me—or works in general— but I think that should be expected. None of them is poorly done. This isn’t a bunch of demos strung together, or a “sessions” record dressed up and passed off as an album. But most of them do, and that’s enough to make the album strong overall.

For each of these, I tried to put myself in his shoes or at least in a scenario that would influence these tracks. “How Indiscreet” towards the end really captures what I like about it — there’s a lively, restless feel to it that reminds me of crate-digging for old soul records. Anytime I go to my favorite local shop, I spend some time in that corner, and while I was daydreaming at work, thinking about how best to put this review together, I imagined him there doing the same. In the end, I think that “realness” or authenticity is the album’s superpower. Doing a bunch of genres in a row isn’t easy to do, but Swimming Hour pulls it off.

Overall, The Swimming Hour isn’t perfect, but its animation, sincerity, and mix of influences left a great impression. I’ll be back to visit this one.

Bottom Line:
Tough call here. Bit are good, if wildly different records. My bracket pick defaulted to name recognition (The Coup), and my vote later this morning will be largely dependent on my mood. Will I be burnt out on corporatist bullshit? Will I be riding high off a night of good sleep and a morning playing with Gizmo? Could 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!

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Black Rebel Motorcycle Club’s Debut | Dive-Bar Anthems That Go For Days

by KevinLeave a Comment on Black Rebel Motorcycle Club’s Debut | Dive-Bar Anthems That Go For Days

Best Record of 2001: Day 14

Cover art courtesy of Virgin Records

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a quick look at BRMC’s self-titled debut as it takes on Spiritualized’s Let it Come Down.

Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.

The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!

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

KA—

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club- S/T

Put aside the name, kitschy band name, and the fact that you spend a good amount of time thinking you’re listening to Jesus and Mary Chain; Black Rebel Motorcycle Club rips. 2001 might;ve been an era of potemkin-vkillages-as band, but this wasn;t one of them. Robert Levon Been on bass and vocals, Peter Hayes on guitar and vocals, Nick Jago on drums—they came out swinging with actual songs. In short, they came to play 9, no pun intended. Been is also the son of The Call’s Michael Been, so that’s a nohter notch in the win column.

“Love Burns” is a slow burn that gets things off to a strong start. Red Eyes and Tears and “Whatever Happened to My Rock n’ Roll (Punk Song) are two more for your playlist. The latter will also have you thinking more about The Stooges than you have in a while. We’ll see where this bracket takes up, but that’s gotta be an early leader for “best opening run of tracks.”

The rest holds up as well. “As Sure as the Sun” has a steady churn that builds into something almost pretty (maybe that’s just me. I was listening at work before sunrise). “Spread Your Love” brings a fat bass line and a nice dose of distortion. As with lots of records, a couple of spots drop off—like the last seconds of “Whatever Happened…” — but these feel intentional, not because of any sloppiness.

I’m probably the wrong person to ask, but the lasting impression of this band is that People slept on them and this record. Maybe the JAMC comps were a distraction, but besides the fuzz and drone, there’s plenty of hooks too.

A lot of these records feel very much of their time. Or worse, like it’s a nostalgia exercise. This doesn’t strike me as one of ‘em. Besides mistakenly thinking it was JAMC, my other overarching takeaway is that this was a goddamn delight, and a record that could easily have been released last week.

Bottom Line:

Spiritualized vs BRMC seems like the most 2001 contest that ever 2001 contested, but here we are. Both are seeded roughly mid-pack (56 vs 73). On my bracket, I went with the higher seed. Seemed reasonable at the time! With the benefit of a couple of new listens for each, I’ll once again vote against myself and ride for BRMC.

Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!

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Blackwater Park and the Moment Death Metal Clicked For One Fan

by KevinLeave a Comment on Blackwater Park and the Moment Death Metal Clicked For One Fan

The Best Record of 2001 Day 13: Opeth vs. Spoon

Good morning!

Today Jason Kolenda’s got the keys to the truck and will be sharing his thoughts on Opeth’s Blackwater Park as it takes on Spoon’s Girls Can Tell.

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.

That death metal isn’t in my wheelhouse should not surprise anyone reading this. It’s a genre that’s never lacked for skill or talent, but I’ve just never found a way in. What I am into is hearing people’s backstories around records. What is it about any given release that resonates? What was so sticky that years later you can’t describe the album without superlatives (or utter contempt)? Where were you at (literally & figuratively both)? What was the on-ramp?

These are parts of larger discussions I could have all day- and as we go on through this year, I hope to have that become a sort of theme here. They’re important, and they matter. Sometimes it really is as easy as learning why New Order is someone’s favorite band, but zooming out, I think it helps us better understand the people we’re talking with, and in 2026, lord knows we could use all of that ya got!

So! We’ve got us a death metal album (a genre I don’t know much about), from a year that was a musical desert for me. Earlier this week, we looked at Converge’s Jane Doe, and I couldn’t finish the record, let alone find anything redeeming to say about it.

I didn’t want to do that again. One, it makes for a shitty read, and two, it’s kinda cheap. Like Converge, I kept seeing people online talking about this album in glowing terms. To hear them tell it. This is a landmark release…Changed the game forever…etc.

And I did want to hear them tell it—or rather hear one person tell it; Jason Kolenda. Some context: I run/edit an online publication on another platform, and Jason is a longtime writer. He’s also one of the resident experts on metal- and all of its subgenres- and more than once, his work has been a helpful resource in bringing into relief the appeal of death metal.

The words below the jump are all his, and appeared as part of a larger (much larger!) series. Whether you’re a long-time aficionado looking for a kindred spirit or someone like me looking for a way in, Jason’s writing should be one of your first stops. It definitely helped me see this record in a positive light.

KA—

Opeth- Blackwater Park

How am I to begin talking about this behemoth of an album? Even though it’s not #1, it’s by far the most transformative album in my collection. This album changed my life forever. That may sound like an exaggeration, but it isn’t.

Before I knew about this album, music was just a casual interest for me, like the average person — nothing wrong with that, of course. I liked a few bands, bought a few CDs once in a while, mostly radio hits and occasionally a suggestion from a friend, and that was that.

But my discovery of Opeth led to extreme metal as a whole, turning music into a lifelong obsession for me. From that point on, it was a hardcore hobby that I spent countless hours on — discovering new artists, albums, genres, making tables and graphs, and writing about them. It turned me into a music nerd. There’s no going back, and I would not want to anyway.

This obsession was far from instantaneous, however.

I never thought about the term “death metal” before discovering Opeth. I wasn’t interested in it and didn’t think much of it. But this album taught me that metal could be a lot of things I didn’t realize before. It could be interesting, complex, thought-provoking, and even mature. Despite sounding instantly off-putting to many, creating something worthwhile could still take tremendous talent. Hell, it could even be beautiful. It wasn’t just for angry, rebellious teenagers.

My Opeth introduction story is probably quite unusual. I had an online friend I used to chat with about music. There was no YouTube or streaming in those days, so we actually sent each other MP3 files that we had downloaded through a chat room. He sent me “Patterns in the Ivy,” a 2-minute acoustic interlude on this album. He proceeded to tell me that this is a death metal band, a term I was barely familiar with. I thought, ok, that’s cool, I like what I hear. I listened to this song a few times and then decided to check out more. I don’t remember what I heard next -it’s possible I just outright bought the album.

I did not enjoy the death growls at first. It took me several months to get accustomed to them. But I did like the heavy moments with clean vocals, as well as acoustic and instrumental sections. At first, I couldn’t stand the death growls and reacted like most average music listeners would—instantly repelled. For a while after that, I just tolerated them, really appreciating everything else this album had to offer. Slowly, though, I started to actually enjoy them.

For as long as it took me to appreciate the harsh vocals, Opeth was one of the best bands I could ask for to introduce me to this style of music. Fast forward to today, and I still think Mikael Åkerfeldt is the best metal vocalist out there. His growls are just monstrous, in the best possible way. His powerful, clean vocals have a hardy, roughness but exquisite richness. He can also serenade the listener with a delicate softness when necessary.

Blackwater Park is a record full of contrasting juxtapositions, both within individual songs and adjacent tracks. “Dirge for November” may be the most obvious instance of this — the meat of the song being one of the heaviest moments on the album, bookended by ultra-delicate plucking and singing on either side. “Patterns In the Ivy” — my unusual introduction to this album — is a 2-minute acoustic interlude sandwiched between two behemoth songs. And then there’s “Harvest,” a remarkable acoustic ballad in its own right. Opeth is pretty good about providing “breathers” at just the right time, before the listener gets too exhausted, and to give time to process long, complex tracks.

The musical contrasts may be my favorite thing about the band, not to mention one of my favorite things in music. But this album also has some of the best riffs in the metal world. “The Funeral Portrait” is probably my favorite, but examples can be found everywhere. Also, Steven Wilson’s production of this record results in a highly polished production, another attribute that would continue to define Opeth’s career.

When I discovered this, I wasn’t used to progressive music at all, other than maybe some Tool songs. The sudden, or sometimes gradual, changes in song structure and the length of songs were another new thing for me to adjust to. Looking back, it’s unsurprising that this took so long to grow on me. It was several orders of magnitude more complex and sophisticated than the Smashing Pumpkins and Foo Fighters that I was used to.

I have often contemplated whether this album should be #1 after all. Going back through my records, I don’t think it has ever been #1 and has been as low as #6. At this point, it’s still #2, although I’m constantly changing the numbers around.

Spoon- Girls Can Tell

What can I say about Spoon that I haven’t already? As far out of my wheelhouse as Opeth is, Spoon is in it. Not a whole lotta boxes they don’t check for me.

Ranking the records is an exercise in futility. A fun exercise, but still… really, the only consensus is that the first one is the worst one (Telephono), and even that’s relative. From there, it gets really subjective. Maybe you got Gimme Fiction at #3, and I’ve got it at #5 (or vice versa). It’s all a game of inches!

I won’t bury the lede here; I’d put Girls Can Tell at 4 or 5. It’s a solid record. There’s no easy pick for standout tracks; it’s a much more subdued record where the tracks slowly grow on you. They all sound “pretty good!” out of the gate, and before you know it, you’re spilling ink on the record and struggling to pick just one as a fave. That’s just how they roll.

But in the Spoon canon, this is a critically important record. It’s the first sign of what was to come. They’d caught a bunch of bad breaks with A Series of Snakes, took a couple of years to rework it all, and came out the other side with a new sound and a new mindset. I once read an interview (and I apologize for not being able to find it/link to it) where they noted that each member brought in new material, and the others had to guess which song it was based on. Sounds derivative, but if anything, this marks where they went from followers to setting the bar.

Intentional or not, it’s a lot less derivative than earlier records leaned toward; there’s a noirish (?) feel to it all. Britt Daniels purchased his ticket for the emotive/evocative train. Musically, there’s grooves for days. A & R reps might not’ve heard a single, but it didn’t matter. Reinvention. Pivot. Whatever. This marks the moment when Spoon went from a band lost in the mix among countless others to one of the most consistently fantastic bands going.

Bottom Line:
First, thank you again to Jason for his take! This was a record I could’ve easily dismissed. Hearing a new perspective gave me a whole new appreciation for it. Still not my bag, but I get why it’s so important to so many. I can’t see a scenario where Opeth pulls off an upset and moves on to Round 2, but stranger things have happened! After today, I wouldn’t be bummed to see it.

A Quick Look at Kristin Hersh’s ‘Sunny Border Blue’ at 25

by KevinLeave a Comment on A Quick Look at Kristin Hersh’s ‘Sunny Border Blue’ at 25

Best Record of 2001: Day 10

Cover art courtesy of 4AD Records

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at Kristin Hersh’s “Sunny Border Blue” as she takes on Jim O’Rourke’s Insignificance.

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—

Kristin Hersh- Sunny Border Blue

Kristin Hersh’s fifth solo album is an intense—and intensely—personal record, with the mercurial singer-songwriter writing, producing, and playing instruments on twelve of its thirteen tracks. Like 1999’s Sky Motel, Sunny Border Blue blends the spare acoustics of Hersh’s early solo work with the fuller arrangements of Throwing Muses’ later work. So what’s that mean, exactly?

Our pal Marshall Bowden nails it here, with his description of the record and where it falls in her discography.

Not broke? Don’t fix it! So Hersh released Sunny Border Blue in 2001, and it was more of what made Sky Motel so excellent. Once again Kristin takes over the studio, producing herself and playing pretty much everything herself. The songs are accessible, but not easy. Hersh’s famously inscrutable and deeply personal lyrics are at a peak here–she’s the master of the couplet. You can pull so many two-line quotations from her songs, almost at random, and there’s something there to consider. Hersh’s arrangements on these records do a lot to make unusual song structures sound like normal rock/folk music, rendering them catchy enough in parts to ensure you’ll listen to the track again, every time absorbing more about what makes the song tick.

The result is a stormy soundtrack of her inner life, moving from acoustic guitar to bursts of layered vocals, electric guitar, and the occasional piano. As always with Hersh, the lyrics are volatile and loaded for bear, full of loss, regret, and occasionally fury. “Spain” starts out calmly enough, only to swerve into a blitz of invective like “I wanted you to sleep with her and hate yourself instead of me.” “Silica” and “Ruby” (my fave on the record, fwiw) might pass for a version of dream pop if not for their edge and visions of sleeping with “idiots and prophets.”

This is business as usual for Hersh, and that’s the point. The acoustic guitar, the odd time changes, and the off-kilter lyrical turns all feel familiar, like a nexus between the Muses and her solo work. She’s not reaching for some grand reinvention here, but she doesn’t need to. The songs have her fingerprints all over them, and that alone gives the record its pull. Her style is as mesmerizing to me today as a 50-year-old listening at work as it was when I first encountered it at 13.

And hey! There’s a cover on this record. I’ll have to look, but that’s not a common thing on her albums, is it? Happy to be corrected! At any rate, it’s a cover of Cat Stevens’ “Trouble.” Hersh gives it a rough, aching spin, and the way she sings lines like “Oh trouble set me free, I have seen your face, and it’s too much, too much for me” sounds like she’s staring straight her demons in the eye and daring them to give her a reason.

In his discussion of her discography, Bowden places Sunny Border Blue near the top, and it’s hard to argue otherwise. The arrangements…the lyrics purpose-built for pull quotes…This is Hersh at her wonderful, maddening best.

Bottom Line:
One of the interesting subplots of this tourney so far is how (relatively) close the votes have been. Last time around, these early matches saw a lot of routs as consensus favorites went up against picks that barely squeaked in. This time around, that’s just not happening. On Bluesky, someone posited that with more voters overall, people feel safer voting against their own brackets, and I wonder if that’s true. I hope it is, ‘cause that’s what I’ll be doing today. Bracket pick? O’Rourke. Vote? Hersh.

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!

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The Best Record of 2001: Day 9

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 2001: Day 9

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!

The Best Record of 2001: Day 8

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 2001: Day 8

Ben Folds takes on The Langley Schools Music Project.

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at Ben Folds’ Rockin’ the Suburbs (#48) and The Langley Schools Music Project’s Innoncence and Despair.

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—

Ben Folds- Rockin’ the Suburbs

Talk about bad timing.

Rockin’ the Suburbs should’ve been Ben Folds’ ticket to stardom. There’s no more “five” riding his coattails (okay, there’s three of ‘em still, but still…), he’s got a couple of great records behind him and a new one in the can ready to go. It’s chock full of the usual witticisms that brought us all to the party in the first place. There’s plenty of piano and a good chunk of fuzzy bass. What’s not to love?

If only they hadn’t picked September 11th for the release day. And really, who releases a record on a Tuesday?! Maybe that’s a thing? I dunno. Either way, I spent the day at the airport, smoking, “guarding planes” (lol), and listening to ABC radio; Ben probably spent it wondering what might’ve been.

One of the things I’ve always dug about Folds’ writing is how he writes about the human condition but wraps it in a brand of wit that makes you feel good about it all. “Army” could’ve been a dirge about not getting along with his dad. Instead, a whole generation of us has “Grew a mustache and a mullet/got a job at Chick-fil-A” stuck in our head like a sonic sleeper agent, just waiting to be our next earworm. This, of course, makes piano-led music more palatable. I also suspect he wrote many of these not as catharsis but for his own amusement.

The first song on Rockin’ the Suburbs is “Annie Waits,” and doesn’t pivot too far. As Exhibit A for the people, I offer you: “Annie waits… But not for me.” Iseewhatyoudidthere. The title track is also one of the catchiest on the record, and my fave of the lot. Catchy is good, as there’s a good deal of heavier material here. And tbh, after 9/11, that’s the last thing anyone needed.

Folds’ records have always been a mixed bag for me, with some must-listens and some must-skips. I’ve only ever owned/borrowed these on CD; that came in handy. But the highs! So, so high. I suspect at some point, I’ll be wandering the halls of the old folks home and will just start singing “Army,” or I’ll be in the dining hall and the melody to “Don’t Change your Plans” will pop into my head. It’s a high bar.

And it’s a bar that ‘Suburbs never quite clears. It’s good, not great. Some of the tracks are wonderful, but I can guarantee there’s no way I’ll be signing “Annie Waits” at some random point in old age.

What might’ve been.

The Langley Schools Music Project- Innocence and Despair

Speaking of getting old, I hate that time keeps screaming by, but there are a few silver linings. One of ‘em? No more elementary school “programs.” Look, I love my kids, but there is no need for me to ever sit through another music program. No reason to pretend not to be driven mad by off-key crooning or that one kid whose parents made him play the French horn. Remember that weird resurgence Journey enjoyed about 10-12 years ago? Yeah. Just in time for my oldest’s (then ) third-grade class to do a whole-ass thing featuring their songs. You’d think this would’ve been fun, if only ironically. You would be wrong.

But this! This is great. Maybe it’s because I didn’t feel like attendance was compulsory. I mean; literally no one was gonna give a f**k if i didn’t play this. And tbh, I thought about it. But this whole record made me feel some kind of way. Recorded in 1976-1977, it’s essentially a school-assembly-as-covers record using hits of the era. Bowie? Sure, why not? Rhiannon? Okay. Sweet Caroline? Gotta take the bad with the good, I ‘spose.

On paper, there is no reason why I would normally like this, but some sort of Grinch-type stuff happened, and my heart grew three times its normal size. Maybe it’s the shit state of play in 2026, but man, this was exactly what I needed today. They even cover Herman’s Hermits! Something tells me I’m into something good? You better believe it.

Bottom Line:
Bracket pick: Ben Folds all day. There are quite a few first-round matchups where I defaulted to picking the higher seed. This is one of ‘em. My vote? Going to the kids.

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!

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The Best Record of 2001: Day 6

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 2001: Day 6

Everyone’s favorite murder ballad merchant takes on some British hip hop

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds No More Shall We Part (#49) as it faces off against Roots Manuva’s Run Come Save Me (#80)

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—

Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds- No More Shall We Part

I need you to understand that I’ve always regarded Nick Cave as a modern-day vampire. I don’t mean the cartoony Count Chocula caricature; I mean something like Lestat’s musically inclined cooler cousin. The type of guy that is never not wearing top-notch finery and lives in a castle with innumerable candles. None of this is close to accurate, of course. But still, if I ever saw him in, say, shorts and a T-shirt, it would probably short-circuit my mind. We all saw what happened when Danzig was snapped buying kitty litter. I don’t need that fourth wall being shattered again! Wasn’t a duet with Kylie Minogue enough? It’s also worth noting that I happen to love his newsletter, most of which is his pontificating on the world around us wrapped around the kernel of answering fan mail. He’s seen some shit (a given when you’re 377 years old) and has a pretty unique take on the world. All jokes aside, he’s suffered incredible loss, which has certainly colored his world and shaped his view of it. He’s pretty open about his faith, which, if nothing else, seems to be rare in his corner of the music universe.

I say all of this so you, A) have an idea how my brain works, and B) have an idea of the lens through which I hear everything Cave (and/or the Bad Seeds) have done.

So! About this record: No More Shall We Part is full of the devotion, guilt, prayer, and private bargaining one might expect. It comes across as a record written with a quill pen by candlelight while rain lashed the windows. It comes across as a record penned by someone coming to grips with what his innermost thoughts are trying to tell him. Say what you will about our murder ballad merchant; he’s consistent.

One of the things I find most off-putting about evangelicals is their tendency to describe everything in absolute terms. Conversely, one of Cave’s most endearing traits is his refusal to do so. At the risk of sounding like the laziest bot you’ve ever heard of, I kept coming back to that push-pull while listening to the record. This was also the first record he made after going clean, and once you know that, you can’t unhear it (not derogatory). I suppose some of you might be wondering which, if any, tracks to listen to, and to that I say Hallelujah, God Is in the House, and Fifteen Feet of Pure White Snow are all good picks.

No More Shall We Part is ornate, theatrical without being over the top, and weathered by the weight of experience but not self-pitying. In other words, a Nick Cave record. It’s also not my bag at all. In other words, a Nick Cave record. More power to everyone that loves his work, but I’ll stick to the newsletter and call it good. And would it kill him to do a nice little pop number with Kylie Minogue next time?

Roots Manuva- Run Come Save Me

Oh hey! A British rapper rapping about British things. Fun! Didn’t we already do this with Tricky and (maybe) Prodigy? Having an intro track called No Strings that’s nothing but strings didn’t help. Irony is fine in limited doses. A whole-ass song? That’s an overdose. No matter. I was sure I wasn’t gonna like this record but decided to push through anyway (the things I do in the name of “research”!). What I really wanted was something with what we used to call a “jeep beat”—in other words, something that sounded hella good as the bass proceeded to take apart your trunk, rivet by rivet. This vein of underground rap is fine, but again, not something I’m super into. I’ve got a couple of faves (i.e., Jurassic 5), and that’s enough for me. It took a few tracks, but when Join the Dots hit full speed, I found myself thinking it sounded like… Jurassic 5. Not terrible! Ital Visions was more of the same, and I’ll take all of that you’ve got.

It’s not fair to compare British and American hip-hop. There’s more ragga and dub influence oozing into the mix. Different beats, too (I wonder if there’s a British Jeep Beat equivalent?). If there is, this ain’t it. Their sounds are solid, the production is good, there are the aforementioned couple of standout tracks, and I’m willing to bet that with a few more listens, some appreciation would come. But this was never going to be something you heard comin’ from around the way.

Bottom Line:
If you forced me to pick only one of these to listen to forever, my first response would be to ask why you’re so mad at me. My second (after much consternation) would be to go with Nick Cave; if I were stuck in prison or a dungeon, I would probably want something with some clarity, and No More Shall We Part would be the better of the two at delivering it. Bracket-wise, the dilemma’s easier- I’m sure the hipster contingent will show up/show out for Roots manuva, but I’m banking on Cave’s name recognition to carry the day.

Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!

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Album review | Tori Amos ‘Strange Little Girls’

by KevinLeave a Comment on Album review | Tori Amos ‘Strange Little Girls’

Best of 2001 Day 5: Tori Amos closes out her time with Atlantic by reinventing the music of men.

Good morning!

We’re in for a treat today, as Z-sides Music takes the wheel, and shares his take on Tori Amos’ Strange little Girls release.

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.

Today, Z-Sides Music stops by to share his take on Strange Little Girls. The words—and work— below the jump are all his, and I’m grateful he let me share this with everyone! I think you’ll dig it, too.

KA—

Tori is known for her prolific list of covers (“Smells Like Teen Spirit” anyone?) that she’s recorded in the studio and performed live. It was a matter of time before she used her skills for reinvention to make her own covers project.

What would it include? This go around, she gathered an eclectic group of songs, all written by men, to spin from a female perspective. This marks the last album on Atlantic Records before she signed with Epic. This is also a bit of a soft boundary between Amos’s more rugged words of the 90s and the softer sound she would adopt on later projects. Each song brings something different to the table. She’s traded out the Kurzweil for a Wurlitzer and Rhodes. We also trade out Steve Caton, Tori’s long-time guitarist, for Adrian Belew.

The richness of Tori’s heavily reverberated Wurlitzer adds a unique depth to this Velvet Underground cover of “New Age.” Her keys keep the dreamy psychedelic vibe of the 1969 original. Amos’s heavy vocals add the proper amount of sultriness to the sexuality that Lou Reed’s words provide. Adrian Belew’s guitar work beautifully matches the vibe Tori created.

A promotional image from the Strange Little Girls album shoot. (Photo from The Dent)

The most evocative song on the album is her take on Eminem’s “‘97 Bonnie and Clyde”. She places you in the woman’s point of view from the car’s trunk. She’s half alive and overhearing her husband relay, in a twisted paternal way, why her mother is soon to be dead. It’s chilling. Amos takes on this spoken, whispered tone throughout the song that sends shivers down your spine.

Compared to the demented sing-song-like rap verses Eminem brings at you, Tori’s breathy delivery drives the image of a half-dead woman hearing her husband’s psychotic reasonings to his daughter over the soon-to-be death of her mother. The loss of breathe at the end of the lines, “Here, you wanna help da-da tie a rope around this rock?/ We’ll tie it to her footsie then we’ll roll her off the dock/ Ready now, here we go, on the count of free../ One.. two.. free.. WHEEEEEE!”, really drive home the image of this woman’s last moments alive. It’s a powerful take on one of the more violent tracks in Eminem’s catalog.

The cover of the single “Strange Little Girl.” (Photo from Discogs)

The only single to be taken from the album is Tori’s version of The Stranglers’ “Strange Little Girl.” She gives the song a more 70s wash, opting for the Wurlitzer over the original synths and giving a rushing drum progression that quickly grabs you from the song’s beginning.

I really liked the take Amos has on the character when put into the progression of the album’s track list:

“This is the little girl whose father killed her mother in Eminem’s song, all grown up, having to deal with the fact that she was an accomplice to the murder. She’s a dichotomy of things because she’s divided — even when parents divorce, if they turn one child against one parent, you’re dividing that child at the core. It’s a manipulative thing to do.”

The words, “one day you see a strange little girl look at you/ one day you see a strange little girl feeling blue/ walking home in her wrapped up world/ she survived, but she’s feeling old/ cause she found all things cold,” give off such a broken vibe after reading that response. I thoroughly enjoy the fast-paced drum and guitar work that evokes the feeling of frantically outrunning your past, present, and future.

Tori takes a much more stark approach to Depeche Mode’s “Enjoy the Silence.” She strips away all of the electronics, leaving just her vocals, piano, and the most subtle synth and bass line to add some levity. It gives the words a much harsher tone. They are quite literally breaking the silence. The small change to the second verse’s lines, “Pleasures remain/ So does the pain/ Words are meaningless/ And unforgettable,” adds such a heavy gravity to the power of words and the scars they can leave behind.

Regarding transformations, Amos made an extremely emotionally impactful move to an alt/electronic classic. I quite enjoy Amos’s take on 10cc’s “I’m Not in Love.” The originally airy 70s song gets a much darker makeover. The 10cc original has a very flowery vibe, which gives the lyrics a more sarcastic, playful mood in response to the woman he is singing to. Amos gives the song a threatening coldness. This juxtaposition of sound makes the man’s lines emotionally abusive: “Said, I’d like to see you, but then again/ It doesn’t mean you mean that much to me/ So if I call you, don’t make a fuss/ Don’t tell your friends about the two of us.” Chamberlain’s empty percussion creates a beautifully dark, hollow mood.

Tori tones down the tempo just a hair on the Lloyd Cole track “Rattlesnakes.” Keeping the richness of the strings through the use of a slide guitar and a Rhodes piano. It gives the song a touch of Americana that I think works in its favor. Tori’s vocal delivery, I think, provides more depth to Jodie’s story, a troubled woman still haunted by the loss of her unborn child. I wish this had been another single off the project. It’s a nice bridge to what would come on Amos’s next project.

One of multiple album covers of Strange Little Girls. (Photo from Discogs)

One of the album’s most straightforward covers is the Tom Waits cover of “Time.” Trading Waits’ guitar for Amos’s piano keeps the same reverence as the original. One thing that makes this track stand out is its familiarity. It sounds so much like something Amos would pull out on stage solo for a special moment.

She had thought to put this on the organ but opted for the stripped-down take:

“I thought about taking this to the organ, but I stripped it back… It’s from the point of view of Death, so I felt like you need to feel like you are sitting on the piano stool. No masks, no effects, it’s right here, dry, with a little compression on vocals.”

It’s a very special moment on the album. Tori’s take on Neil Young’s “Heart of Gold” is one of the few that misses the mark for me. We trade out the folk styling of Neil’s original for a more ’70s-styled rock sound that layers Amos’s vocals over one another. It just feels a bit too chaotic and cluttered compared to the other reinventions she’s created on the album thus far.

Like her treatment of “Enjoy the Silence,” The Boomtown Rats’ “I Don’t Like Mondays” is a simple Rhodes-and-vocal track. The lush reverb on the Rhodes is a treat for the ears. Compared to the other tracks on the album, it feels just a bit flat. Seeing this a song about a woman shooting up an elementary school playground, the mellow mood of the song just doesn’t match the subject matter on the song well.

A promotional image from the Strange Little Girls photo shoot. (Photo from The Dent)

The longest song on the album is her spin on The Beatles’ “Happiness Is a Warm Gun.” Coming in at 9 minutes, it is interspersed with audio clips of George H.W. and George W. Bush, Daniel Bocking, and Tori’s own father, Dr. Edison Amos, discussing their thoughts on gun violence. It’s probably one of the most abstract takes on the entire album.

Giving this song a menagerie of political clips alongside Lennon and McCartney’s words makes for a unique stand for gun control, which has only become an even greater issue in recent years. I find Amos’s dual-wielding of the synth and piano to be outstanding and the spin on the track to be much more powerful now. I just wish it had a bit more form.

Another favorite of mine off the project is the unique spin on Slayer’s “Raining Blood.” She flips the speed metal track on its head, opting for a deep, crawling piano line, a growling bass line, and a vocal reverb that only highlights the song’s emptiness. It’s battered and seething compared to the original, tearing viciousness.

Of her take on the song, Tori told Oor:

“The text is really beautiful indeed, the words touched me deep. The ‘Raining Blood’ girl revealed herself to me from the moment that I heard the song. She said from the first line, ‘Come with me Tori, I’ll show you everything.’ She took me to a warfield, pure horror. Still I felt safe with her, because of her braveness. But not only the girl came to me. There was another image. Of a big, beautiful vagina in the air. From which blood is raining. It’s falling out of the air on certain countries which are so terribly violent against women. Like Afghanistan, where women can’t even go on the street without a man, are not allowed to study and often get raped. And these horrors can not be lead in any way to religion. It’s straight from the spirit of men”

This malice-fueled feminine point of view only promises retribution for the horrors the women have suffered: “The sky is turning red/ Return to power draws near/ Fall unto me, unto/ Fall unto me the sky’s crimson tears/ Abolish the rules/ Abolish the rules made of stone.” Though extremely colorful in Amos’s description above, the notion pours thickly over you as the track oozes.

We end off the project with another, more straightforward take on Joe Jackson’s “Real Men.” For an album that focused on reinventing songs from a male perspective, it is only fitting that she would cover one that calls out all kinds of masculinity. Her vocal hums in the song’s chorus are absolute ear candy. I’m glad she saved this one at the end of the album. It feels like the perfect closing chapter to Tori’s narrative.

Overall, I think most of the album shows Amos’s talent for covering a song and making it all her own. Some of the tracks, “‘97 Bonnie and Clyde”, “I’m Not in Love,” and “Raining Blood,” become something entirely their own through Tori’s interpretation.

That said, I think there are a few missteps on the album. “I Don’t Like Mondays” is too calm compared to its dark lyrics, and “Heart of Gold” feels overloaded. I wish her covers of David Bowie’s “After All” and Alice Cooper’s “Only Women Bleed” took the place of those two tracks instead of being B-sides.

My favorites off the album:

  • “‘97 Bonnie and Clyde”
  • “Enjoy the Silence”
  • “I’m Not in Love”
  • “Rattlesnakes”
  • “Time”
  • “Raining Blood”

My overall rating: 7.0 out of 10.0.

Bottom Line: Thank you again to Z-sides Music for today’s post! Please be sure to check out more of his work over on Medium. You can also connect with him on Instagram.

As for the vote: Not all of these tracks landed with me. There are some discussions as to whether this was Amos trying something new, or simply mailing it in to meet the terms of her contract with Atlantic. I’m choosing to buy into the former, so she’s getting both my bracket pick and vote. And Aesop Rock? I like hip-hop, but nothing about this album stuck with me.

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The Best Record of 2001: Day 4

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 2001: Day 4

Slowcore legends Low take on post-hardcore band Thursday

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at Low’s Things We Lost in the Fire (#16) and Thursday’s “Full Collapse” (#113)

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—

Low- Things We Lost in the Fire

Duluth, Minnesota, is incredibly underrated. Yes, the winter weather is, um, “problematic,” but if you can tolerate a little meteorological volatility, it’s well worth your time.

Part of the appeal lies in its being right on Lake Superior. It’s a majestic, magical body of water that does well to remind one of their place in the universe. The city is also close to the Iron Range, where a lot of taconite pellets begin their journey to become products and infrastructure in our lives. They’re carried on freighters (”lakers”) that traverse the Great Lakes for most of the year, hauling all the underrated stuff we never notice until it’s not there. It’s what the Edmund Fitzgerald was carrying when the lake took her, spawning a song by Gordon Lightfoot and starting the tradition of that track appearing in every jukebox within 200 miles. It’s probably a licensing requirement. I dunno. Either way, the lake is now synonymous with the boat, and vice versa.

That’s a lot of words to say that Duluth is more important to people than they might realize. It’s also a great place to see a lot of ships coming and going.

When talking about transportation, I always have to remind myself that not everyone is as into it (or cares) like I do. I’m the kind of person who works with airplanes all day and then takes a vacation somewhere with front-row seats to shipping lanes. I like watching these leviathans come and go—from filling your entire field of vision to becoming a mirage on the horizon, then disappearing completely. They’re stately, steady, and a little anachronistic. Frankly, I’m often amazed at how much mileage (literally and figuratively) we’ve gotten out of this fleet of lakers, many of which were in service alongside the Edmund Fitzgerald, and have been going strong for over fifty years.

Duluth also gave us Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker, aka slowcore elder statesmen Low, and bear with me as I make one of the clunkiest analogies in the history of this newsletter. A lot of people don’t realize how important Low has been in their musical diet. If you like slowcore at all, Low’s probably a big reason for that. If you enjoy beautiful vocal pairings—well, I have some good news. If you like simple, stripped-down music with only rudimentary mechanics, you can find that at both the harbor and on records like Things We Lost in the Fire.

Like the lake following the seasons, across their career, Low’s sound has moved from icy to something warmer and open. Things We Lost in the Fire does a good job of capturing that shift. There’s a glow that feels (to my ear, anyway) like the light of morning. guitars hum and whir like the thrum of diesel engines, drums pulse at an unhurried pace, and the vocal harmonies fit nicely against the space around them, without ever threatening to take them over. Songs such as “Sunflower,” “Dinosaur Act,” and “July” feel more open(?) than songs from earlier records. Elsewhere, touches of strings and acoustic elements give the record a little movement without losing its placidity. Is placidity a word? It is now.

I should mention that this record sounds like most every other Low record, but what else was it going to sound like? Long winters can make people do strange things, but it’s not like they were going to spin off and do their version of Metal Machine Music. This, of course, is reductive and akin to saying every ship looks the same. Neither is true. There are variations here, and in a couple of spots, things plod along right on schedule until, as noted, there’s a burst of vocals, strings, or some other surprise element(s).

The knock on them is this consistency, this sameness, but like a boat still moving along after almost six decades, why would they have tried to fix what wasn’t broken?

Thursday- Full Collapse

Somewhere, there is someone who loves this record. Maybe they had a lot of angst in 2001, and this spoke to them. Maybe they just had a penchant for songs that burst into primal screaming right on cue. Someone loved this record enough to nominate it for this tournament. Enough someone’s liked it for it to make the cut. And it’s not even seeded last. That someone is not me. First track? Pretty rad! After that, the novelty wears off. Fast. Hard pass.

Bottom Line:
Thanks for bearing with me as I compared a slowcore record to an upper midwest port city and a fleet of Lakers. That might’ve been was clunky, but my vote and bracket pick are as clear as day: Things We Lost in the Fire takes it without a second thought.

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!

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The Best Record of 2001: Day 2

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 2001: Day 2

Rufus Wainwright takes on Kings of Convenience

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at Poses by Rufus Wainwright (#64) and Kings of Convenience’s Quiet is the New Loud (#65).

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—

Rufus Wainwright’s Poses is baroque pop personified. Strings and piano carry most of the weight here, wrapping even the plainest melodies in old-world finery. It followed his 1998 debut, the one that caught Rolling Stone’s attention and had Elton John calling him “timeless.” By the time Poses arrived, Wainwright was living at the Chelsea Hotel, brushing up against fame, trouble, and everything in between. Poses feels like a record made by someone living in an upscale hotel; the atmosphere feels like it’s surrounded in mahogany and tall-backed chairs…and I really hope that makes as much sense on your screen as it did in my head.

This isn’t a bad record. The production gleams, Wainwright’s voice comes across as a man out of time, and the arrangements feel expensive in the best way. The problem is me. Chamber pop doesn’t do it for me in 2026–and it definitely wouldn’t have been something I was into in 2001. Beyond “California,” most of these songs pass through like a conversation with someone I’ll never see again… in a place like a hotel lobby. Nice enough in the moment, nothing sticky (again, carving out an exception for “California” here.).

Wainwright’s voice reminds me a bit of what Cameron Winter from Geese does—except where Geese lean into the ramshackle, Wainwright pushes the emotion until it circles back around and starts to flatten. Maybe that’s the design? Maybe he’s chasing sincerity so hard it becomes too clever by half? Maybe I missed the point entirely. Either way, I find myself admiring the effort put into it more than I enjoy the ride.

Hooboy, I hope you don’t get tired of hearing me say, “This is a new one for me,” because it’s going to happen a lot over the next few weeks. I’d never even heard of Kings of Convenience before the submission window for this challenge opened. My surface-level take? They’re basically the Norwegian version of The Shins—part of that same narrow vein of quiet, introspective indie folk.

I had heard of The Shins, of course—mostly because everyone alive owned that Garden State soundtrack at some point. Like Wainwright above, I’ve never had much taste for this brand of muted, rainy‑day music. There’s a softness to it I’ve just never connected with. When I was younger, I wanted sharper sounds hitting my ears—you’d think that would mellow with age, but even now I still crave something with an edge.

Look, I get why people dig it (clearly, it made the cut over a few far more deserving records, IMO). But still…this is in that liminal space between “too slow for the Hyatt lobby” and “not new age‑y enough for the spa.”

Bottom Line:
This is a matchup between #64 and #65. In other words, the two records are right in the middle of the bracket. Some would say that’s indicative of a (relatively) broad appeal. Others would say it speaks of middling and ambivalence. Guess which camp I’m in? Matches like this are tough- you want to be objective, but when every fiber of your being is screaming “go listen to something faster!” it’s tough. In baseball, the tie goes to the runner. In today’s matchup, the tie goes to name recognition. Wainwright 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!

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Check out the full bracket here.

Info on the tourney, voting, and more is here.

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—