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!
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!
Today we’re taking a look at Fugazi’s The Argument and it faces off against Word of Mouf by Ludacris.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
If ever there was a tale of two records, this is it. On the one hand, you have Fugazi. As I’ve noted before,
Some records change your life, but rarely does a band come along that changes the way you live. Fugazi did both. In an era when selling out was still a four-letter word, the band did what they did best: they lived their lives on their terms. They could make a compelling case for why you should be on their team, but if you weren’t, that was okay, too. It was a big tent, and their live-and-let-live mindset was a far cry from the straight-edge kids who had teased those threads to their extreme and spent shows looking for drinks to knock out of people’s hands.
Speaking of those shows, the band capped admission at $5 and insisted they be all-ages. I imagine that eventually paid off in the form of increased record sales, but they left a lot of money on the table then. Same with shying away from selling merch and staying on their homegrown Dischord label. Respect and street cred are all well and good, but they don’t pay the rent. But here’s the thing: that DIY ethic wasn’t just a gimmick for Fugazi; it was everything. When one of your songs has a chorus that screams, “You are not what you own,” selling t-shirts becomes a little tricky.
The band held themselves to a high ethical standard, and none of it would’ve mattered if the music wasn’t any good.
But about those records…
You should know that my favorite Fugazi record is whichever one I happen to be listening to when asked. There are highs and lows in any catalog, but in this case, it’s really all relative.
Some make you angry, some pump you up, and some lean more introspective. The Argument is one of the rare records that can survive that kind of whiplash. Fugazi’s sixth and (probably, but hopefully not) final album is hugely underrated, and it feels like the band finding a way to level up every part of their sound without losing the ingrained angst that made them so great in the first place.
Recorded at Inner Ear with Don Zientara and the band in early 2001, The Argument is a very different kind of Fugazi record than the post-hardcore they spent much of the ’90s perfecting. There’s no equivalent to “Break In” here. The distortion is dialed back, and there’s less screams (If that’s what you’re after, I have good news: “Full Disclosure” is right up your alley).
Want an oddly eerie/oddly infectious guitar line? “Life and Limb” has you covered. That doesn’t mean they softened or softened their take on the world around them. Every part of what made Fugazi special is still here: the off-kilter riffs, the dub-heavy rhythm section, the vocal interplay between MacKaye and Picciotto; really, the ability to splice together different genres and make the whole thing sound easy. Again, nothing new for the band at this point. But on The Argument, all of it sounds sharpened and more practiced.
“Epic Problem” is as explosive as anything on Margin Walker or 13 Songs, and is right in the overlap of the “Dissonant” and “Melodic” Venn diagram of their sound. How they do this, I have no idea; I just know it works. It’s all part of what makes them so addictive. Ditto “Strangelight,” which moves from a slightly disorienting rhythm toward a more sweeping one at the end.
“Oh,” might be the best example of how far Fugazi could stretch without breaking. As far as I know, it’s the only track where Ian, Guy, and Joe all sing (happy to stand corrected if I’m off here!), and they picked a track with some call-and-response drama. Those signs of evolution/progress are all over this album. Like they’re finally ready to try some things they know they couldn’t have pulled off earlier in their careers. And it all makes for one of–if not the- best Fugazi releases.
Look, like everyone else, I would have loved more Fugazi records, but if The Argument is the last we’ll see of ‘em, at least they did it right. I’d rather they went out riding high than with something half-baked just for a little cash. Who could fault ‘em for that?
Speaking of which…
At the other end of the spectrum, we have Ludacris. In real life, I work for a Fortune 100 company, and our CEO sees himself as much more hip than he actually is. You know the type: the guy that wears $1500 tailored suits but pairs ‘em with Vans. He also likes to trot out the fact that he was a roadie decades ago and shows up at SXSW. Which, I mean, Ok. The C-suite! They’re just like us! Sure, Jan. What it really leaves is an overpowering “how do you do, fellow kids” vibe.
We also have an annual celebration in Atlanta. This is really a corporate event disguised as a county fair, and, well, I bring all of this up to mention that Ludacris has played this sort of thing at least twice. “Sellout” used to be a four-letter word back in the day, but with time, age, and change, I’ve softened on that a little bit. But I have a hard time reconciling the idea that he’s singing and dancing for the same people who constantly apply downward pressure to my career.
Look, I have no issue with Luda getting the bag. If they’re paying, and he wants to play, so be it! But I don’t have to like it. He might have hoes in every area code, but you only need to go to one—the 404—to see how low he’ll go for a dollar.
Bottom Line: Fugazi. all day, every day.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Today we’re taking a look at Weezer’s Green album as it takes on Melody A.M. by Röyksopp.
In my head, every Weezer fan is one of these two people. Reductive? Maybe. Accurate, probably.
At any rate…
At the risk of great bodily harm, here’s my tl;dr: Weezer didn’t follow up Pinkerton so much as they ran as fast as they could away from it. This was a good thing.
After the (at best) confused reaction to their 1996 album, Rivers Cuomo and co. went back to the drawing board and reeled things back. The Green Album plays like something of a reset button, a record built to avoid risk at all costs, and one meant to make you forget Pinkerton ever happened. No oversharing from Cuomo or blood-on-the-page type lyrics. No big swings, sound-wise. Instead, we got ten clean, efficient power pop songs that stick to the formula and rarely step outside it.
And for the most part, the plan works.
Clocking in at just under 30 minutes, the record is as streamlined as Weezer ever sounded. Crunchy mid-tempo riffs, stacked harmonies, and guitar solos that mirror the vocal melodies almost exactly. It is tight, polished, and an easy listen. You can hear the influences, too: bright 60s-style vocal hooks sitting atop thicker, fuzzed-out 70s guitar tones. Again, this is the band’s stock in trade, but they’re talented enough that it never feels derivative.
The album peaks early. “Hash Pipe,” “Island in the Sun,” and “Crab” are one of the best three-song runs in the band’s catalog. “Hash Pipe” brings a thick, sleazy riff with just enough bite to give the record some edge. “Island in the Sun” is the opposite; loose, warm, and about as effortlessly catchy as anything they have written. IOW, it’s a weapons-grade earworm. It was in ’01, and it still is in ’26, at least for me, anyway. “Crab” keeps things moving without losing momentum, sticking to the same structure and sticking the landing. I was too lazy to look, but if that was a single, I’m surprised it didn’t fare better. If it wasn’t, I’d be curious to know why.
Either way, that stretch does a lot of the heavy lifting here.
From there, the album settles in, and, well, kinda settles. Nothing falls apart, but not much pushes forward either. Cuomo had traded that raw, uncomfortable writing of Pinkerton for lighter, more surface-level lyrics. Again, that makes for an easy listen, a pleasant one, even. But it also opens the door to monotony, which the back side of the record comes perilously close to. If this is your thing, it’s a bunch of what you love. If it’s not, it can all feel like one big amorphous blob. The band deserves kudos for that consistency, but it comes with a cost. The songs start to blur together, built from the same pieces and delivered in the same way.
Still, I have to think that was the point.
The Green Album is Weezer playing it safe and doing it with discipline. Every choice feels controlled, from the short runtime to the repeated song structures. It makes for a smooth, no-frills listen that never overstays its welcome. You can throw it on, let it run, and not think too hard about it. If this had gotten stuck in my car’s CD player, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world.
If viewed as a comeback record, it does the job. This course correction set Weezer back on track for the next several releases. The highs hit, and even the lows never drag things down. The whole thing moves quickly. Sure, the whole record leans heavily on those three standout tracks rather than the full tracklist, but that trio is strong enough to keep it in rotation.
This is not Weezer at their most ambitious or creative, and in the end, that was the right move. It is Weezer keeping things simple, keeping things clean, and getting back on track.
Bottom Line: Weezer’s up against Röyksopp’s Melody A.M., a pleasant enough record. There were parts that screamed “sync music” to me, but also some total delights like “Eple.” In the end, I can’t see it coming out on top here, but that’s down more to an unfair seeding/match up than anything else. Given a lower ranked/lesser-regarded opponent, it’s easy to see a scenario where this sails through. There’ll be some less deserving records that go through to round 2
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Today we’re taking a look at beautiful garbage as it faces off against Andrew WK’s I Get Wet.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challenge and noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
You can tell who is from Madison and who isn’t by how they describe the traffic. If they tell you it’s awful, they grew up here. If they laugh and say it’s not too bad, they’re a transplant. The only exception to this rule (IMO) is East Washington Avenue (aka East Wash). The arterial runs through the city and gets more treacherous the closer you get to the capital. While you’re fighting to stay alive, you might miss what’s left of Smart Studios.
Standing there forlorn at the intersection of East Wash and Baldwin streets, it’s easy to forget that some incredible records were made in Madison on the isthmus. Records from L7, Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, Young Fresh Fellows, and many, many more were all made there.
So it only stood to reason that when some of the people behind the boards on those records decided to make their own, the result would be great.
Former Angelfish frontwoman Shirley Manson joined producer Butch Vig, Duke Erikson, and Steve Marker, and together they crafted something unlike everything else we were hearing at the time. It’s safe to say that Vig was one of the architects of the grunge movement. It’s also safe to say that this record doesn’t sound anything like it. Whether it’s the woozy, buzzsaw opening guitar on the opener “Supervixen,” the creeping sound of “Queer,” or the in-your-face menace of “Vow,” it was exactly the new sound needed to fill in the void as the grunge wave began to ebb. Garbage 2.0 was more of the same, and we couldn’t get enough.
Would beautiful garbage keep the streak going?
Opener “Shut Your Mouth” sure makes it seem like it. The band–and specifically Shirley Manson— roar back with their trademark mix of snarling vocals and gritty industrial sounds. It’s all on brand and makes it easy to assume this’ll be a record stylistically similar to the two records that came before it.
Not so fast.
“Androgyny” leans a bit toward the pop light with an infectious hook and sing-along choruses. It’s catchy enough, but something feels undercooked here. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe the edges were sanded off just a bit too much? Then we get to “Can’t Cry These Tears.” This one goes all in on electro pop, right down to including some bells. I’m scribbling these notes the day we learned Nedra Talley of The Ronettes has passed, and all I keep coming back to is “this is a song they totally could’ve pulled off.”
Garbage is best when there’s some fuzzy guitar right up front, and “Til the Day I Die” has got that for days. And is it just me, or did they lift the riff from Funky Cold Medina?
“Cup of Coffee“ is the band’s stab at a ballad. Manson’s voice can carry just about anything, but I don’t think a ballad is what people are looking for from them.
“So Like a Rose” is a woozy bit of dramatic pop. Like if Kevin Shields let the fog clear a little bit.
Stylistically, this record is all over the map. There’s a fine line between “pushing creative boundaries” and “mixed bag,” and beautiful garbage isn’t quite sure which side to land on– especially when compared to the first two records. Part of me wonders if they were afraid fans would reject more of the same. I doubt it. People loved that! We wanted more of that spark; more of that techno-meets-industrial-meets chanteuse (with a little sampling thrown in for good measure).
It wasn’t exactly a world beater at the register, either. It wasn’t drawing in new fans and seemed to turn away older fans (though that seems to have changed over time). I’m sure dropping a record in the first few weeks following 9/11 didn’t help, nor did dropping “Androgyny” as the first single (one of the weaker tracks on the album, IMO). It’s not terrible, but just feels labored. Like they were meeting a contractual obligation, but were too proud (and too good) to drop an overtly shitty record.
Over time, people seem to have warmed to beautiful garbage. I wonder how much of that is down to being able to stream the good tracks whole, leaving the others behind.
The building where Smart Studios is located is now an Airbnb, and how people react to that is also a tell. Some think it’s lovely and are happy to see it invested in, while others see it as heresy. What’s not up for debate is that some world-changing sounds came from inside those walls, and Garbage’s is but one of them. And it still sounds like nothing else.
While Garbage may have worried about their record sounding like everything else they’d already done, Andrew WK bet the other way, going all in on being a one-trick pony. And taken at face value, it works. It’s a simple premise- make an over-the-top party record. Not everything has to be so serious all the time! There’s a time & place for that, and there’s a time & place to record that helps you just check out for a bit. This is the sort of thing that’s really easy to dismiss, but it takes a lot of work to make something look easy. It’s safe to say that a lot of music scolds were annoyed by this record. It’s also safe to say that’s always a good thing. Sometimes you just want a record so outlandish that it defies description. Something that sounds good cranked to 11 as you barrel down the freeway.
Bottom Line: Tough call. At first blush, I think Garbage will go through to Round 2 on reputation alone. Plus, I like that it was recorded a few miles from where I now live. OTOH, I like how forcefully I Get Wet pushes back on some of the navel-gazing styles people were embracing in ‘01. I Get Wet also doesn’t try to be anything more than what it says on the tin. My bracket pick and vote will go to Andrew WK.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
You’d be hard-pressed to miss the trend back toward friction. For some, it’s fueled by a nostalgia for a simpler time. For others, it’s pushback against a digital world constantly asking more and more of them. Whatever it is, dumbphones are high in demand. Vinyl is still enjoying a resurgence. Parties where people leave their phones at the door are a thing (we used to just call these “parties” or “functions”). Do they listen to music at these? If not, they should. Listening to cool music with cool people is where it’s at.
A lifetime ago, the airline I worked for did its own cabin cleaning. There are few things that will make you lose faith in humanity faster than this work. There are also few things that make it more bearable than listening to music. We used to do this by taking the interphone, jury-rigging it to stay on (as if someone was talking), and then sticking it in front of a boom box. The radio was usually powered by an extension cord run out from the jet bridge’s cab. In other words, a lot of friction. But also very much worth it.
Why am I telling you this? Well, all those years ago, I lucked into working with some of the coolest guys going. And they liked John Hiatt, which meant we listened to him a lot (and JJ Cale, etc). At the time, they all seemed so old, but really were only about as old as I am now. Most of them have long retired and moved to places like Arizona. I was hoping to be there this coming weekend for a wedding and thought it might be a good idea to look a few up, get caught up, and commiserate about the old days. The universe had other plans, so that’ll have to be some other time.
In the meantime, we’ve got one of the most played Hiatt tracks from those days, no interphone required.
We’ve also got brand new stuff from Doug Gillard, Afghan Whigs, Future Islands, and our pals Brian K. and the Parkway. There’s also some sonic comfort food in the form of Jawbreaker, Push Stars, and GBV.
This week, Side A is tracks 1-14 (ends with “I’ve Got My Mind Set On You”). Side B is tracks 15-29.
Today we’re taking a look at Love and Theft by Bob Dylan as it faces off against Wu Tang Clan’s Iron Flag LP.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Bob Dylan- Love and Theft
The last bracket challenge was for 89, and, of course, there was a Dylan record that year, which meant it would get nominated and be voted in. It was seeded at #66, which struck me as a bit low, but that speaks to the voting bloc demographics more than anything (add 10-12 years on and I guarantee that number’s somewhere in the teens).
Anyway, in the interest of putting my priors on the table early, here’s what I wrote then, and 10 months on, it still rings true:
I know that no matter what I write, no matter how many angels sing, I will get at least one reply telling me that it wasn’t enough, that I hadn’t quite prostrated myself correctly at the feet of Dylan. And how dare I?
There will invariably be some invective telling me to go F myself as well. Which, ok. I mean, I get it. This is a man people love dearly. He could read the phone book, and someone, somewhere, would laud it. Someone else would pore over the lyrics with a Talmudic intensity, searching for hidden meaning from our Minnesota magi.
I am not one of those people.
I can respect the love people have for him. I find his influence on music and pop culture interesting. But I have to be in the mood—I mean, really in the mood—to hear some Dylan, and even then, it’s limited to small doses. My runaway favorite song is this version of “Jokerman,” and most of that is because he’s playing with The Plugz.
If you ever want to summon a certain cohort of music fans, do a Top 100 of all time and leave Bob Dylan off the list. You don’t even have to go that far; your partner can submit one on his own, and you simply have to offer insufficient tribute. Highway 61 Revisited is…fine. I said what I said.
I think part of the allure is that it’s Dylan; you’re just supposed to like him. Whether you actually do or not is a different story. For older fans, I think it’s so representative of their formative years that they’re willing to overlook just about anything (you know, like his voice). And that’s fine! We like what we like. And mortality is a helluva drug. My contention is that in 10-15 years, I’ll ramble on too long about New Order or some ‘91-era band and get a comment about getting back to the home. Whatever.
What you should know is that by the timeOh Mercy ended, I’d had a small change of heart. nothing to shift my overall stance, but it wasn’t awful. It’s all relative, but I’d say the same for Love and Theft, too. These are the early days of Dylan’s current phase, and Love and Theft feels like he’s… having fun? What would the radicals-turned-stockbrokers think of that? Nothing’s gonna dethrone the version of Jokerman I mentioned above, but man, did Lonesome Day Blues and Mississippi come close. The former is noisy and fun, and the latter’s a mid-tempo rocker. There’s some swing (”Summer Days”) on here, but I’m willing to overlook it as having been caught up in the (regrettable) fad of the era. I like the overall blues-y direction this one takes. It feels effortless and easy.
See ya in my inbox.
Wu-Tang Clan- Iron Flag
Wu Tang is for the children, but this record is not for me. These are some of the best to ever do it, but this record feels like they’re going in 9 different directions. Props for the Flavor Flav guest spot, but not even he could save some of these joints. “Da Glock” is an absolute clunker. That said, it is Wu-Tang, and when they’re good? Godamn, they’re good. Check out “Y’All Been Warned” and “Radioactive” for a little bit of what makes’ em so lethal.
Bottom Line:
My bracket pick say Wu-Tang, but Lord have mercy, I’m voting for Dylan here. Who even am I anymore?
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Today we’re taking a look at Satellite Rides by Old 97s as it squares off against the self-titled debut from The Knife.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Old 97’s- Satellite Rides
Thought for sure this would be one of those records where I’d know a track when I heard it, but no dice.
Rhett Miller strikes me as a poppier version of John Hiatt and a less sarcastic version of Paul Westerberg. The kind of guy who’s a bit of a wiseass (or asshole) on the surface, but is also somehow the first one over the table to defend you. My hometown was lousy with this sort of guy — they just weren’t singing about it. Maybe he hasn’t seen as much yet? You can see a world-weariness looming on the horizon, but it’s not quite at the door.
In the meantime, we get uber-catchy pop rock with some country and just enough Americana to keep everyone honest. The lyrics take layered looks at the people in the songs and the human condition overall. It’s a record that evokes scenes of surfing the dial while driving across Texas, and like that dial, the album has a little something for everyone. Want pop rock? “Rollercoaster Skinny” is just what the doctor ordered. Want to slow it down just a touch? “Buick City Complex” is right next door. Need a little twang? They’ve got you. Want some earnest, “I’m being serious for once” type stuff? Can’t go wrong with “Question” and “Am I Too Late” (it’s twangy AF, but with heavy lyrics).
I didn’t do any kind of research, but I suspect a lot of dudes in my demographic used “Question” as a pillar in marriage proposals. “Am I Too Late” is what happens when you don’t say what you want until it’s way too late. Regrets? Miller’s had a few. But at least we got an upbeat song out of it.
Tell someone how you feel today. And if it goes sideways? Well, at least you can say you did it. And there’s plenty of rockers on here to soundtrack your escape out of town. If it goes great? Maybe you can spin up a proposal using “Question.”
This is way catchier than I bargained for. It grew on me quickly, and lord help me, it’s a goddamn delight. Am I… am I an Old 97’s fan now? One record does not a discography make, but we’re off to a good start. It’s radio-friendly, with just the right amount of mesquite flavoring. Perfect for your next drive to Champaign or for filling the roadhouse jukebox.
The Knife- S/T
I like Fever Ray (“Even It Out” is my hipster pick for favorite Halloween song — you can only go with Ministry so many times!), but in limited doses. I think I’d like it more if I still got high.
I’d totally spaced that The Knife was Karin Dreijer’s earlier project with her brother Olof. There is something compelling about her vocals — whether in Röyksopp, as Fever Ray, or here. It’s novel, but not a novelty. I hope that makes as much sense on the page as it does in my head. It’s the same pull that Björk grabs me with.
On a track like “I Just Had to Die,” you’d be excused for thinking you’d popped Post in the tray by mistake. Doubly so for “I Take Time,” though that leans more toward a Björk/Flock of Seagulls mash-up. Something I’d definitely search the web for if high enough.
At any rate, couple all of that with a raw, gritty synth sound and you get the gist of this record. If you like that sort of thing, “Kino” will be a highlight. Dig a little chiptune? There’s some of that on here, too (“Zapata”). This record might be old enough to rent a car, but it somehow still sounds like it’s coming from the future. It’s a little delirious, but unapologetically so, and we’re better for it.
Bottom Line: Both of these were pleasant surprises and a nice blast of color after wading through all kinds of beige indie rock over the last few matchups. My bracket tells me I gave Old 97’s the nod, likely on name recognition, but my vote? Man, I didn’t know. It’s going to be a game-time decision, I think.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
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.
Kevin Sent 