Tag: rock

A New Music Book You Should Check Out

by KevinLeave a Comment on A New Music Book You Should Check Out

In conversation with Rob Janicke on his new book and how you can get a free copy

Cover art courtesy of Inspired by You Books

Good morning!

We’re in for a treat today! Author Rob Janicke stops by to talk about his book, Slacker—1991, Teen Spirit Angst, and the Generation It Created.

It’s weird, this online life. There are people I’ve known for years—that I feel like I’ve known longer— that I’ve never been in the same room (or even the same time zone) with.

Rob Janicke is one of those people. He and I first connected as editors for the same online publication. It quickly became clear that we had more in common than a penchant for using a red pen. Our music tastes run largely in parallel, but so too did a lot of our early years, and the transformative role music played in them. More than once, I’ve said that it’s not an exaggeration to say music saved my life. It certainly saved his.

I’ve quipped that he and I were often at the same shows, just on opposite coasts. Except that it’s not a joke. Having those chats makes me wish I’d saved more than 1-2 of my ticket stubs. Who saw which band first, depending mainly on which side of the country the van left from?

Rob stepped away from his editing role to start a new project—a project that ultimately became Slacker—1991, Teen Spirit Angst, and the Generation It Created. As you’ll see below, it’s been a long road, and the final version looks very different from that initial pitch.

I will tell you now that reviewing this book was tough. It’s a project I’ve rooted for, and I was ecstatic to get an early copy of it (NOTE: for more on how to win a signed one of your own, read on). In other words, you shouldn’t have any expectation of objectivity here. Spoiler alert: it’s awesome. That said, I’m not just being nice when I tell you this is a harrowing and exhilarating read in equal parts.

It would’ve been easy enough for him to write a fairly straightforward look back at that early 90s scene. People love that sort of thing, right? Maybe even punch it up by making it into an oral history full of stories from those lucky enough to have been there. Instead, Rob weaves together that history with that of his own life. Ultimately, that blend makes for a much richer, more interesting story.

The shiny parts are an easy read (hanging out at the record store, going to shows, etc.). The book also dips a bit into the science of why music moves us the way only it can. If you’ve ever had your mind rearranged by a slab of vinyl, this’ll be relatable. All well and good.

However, the book also touches on some darker parts of life as a latchkey kid. That’s his story to tell, and he doesn’t gloss over any of it. My copy is full of highlights, dog-eared pages, and notes in the margins- some of which were questions I wanted to make sure to ask him.

Slacker isn’t a puff piece for GenXers looking to relieve their youth; there’s no garden hose memes, or rants about “kids these days.” Rather, it’s for anyone looking to read more about why that very specific time had such an outsized impact on our lives and pop culture. It was an era that changed the world, one life at a time.

If you’re of a certain age, it will absolutely resonate with you. You’ll likely see your own life reflected back at you the way I did.

I recently (Finally!) had a chance to speak with Rob. In our wide-ranging chat, we discuss the Slacker origin story, where it started and ended up, and the opportunities writing the book has presented.

The discussion has only been lightly edited for grammar and flow.

KA—

Congrats on the book! I know this has been years in the making. For those who may not be familiar with the backstory, could you walk us through how Slacker came to be?

Thanks, Kevin! You’re right. SLACKER started with some personal introspection during the COVID-19 pandemic and kind of took on a life of its own soon after I wrote the first few pages. It was April 2020, and I was in my backyard watching my dog play. As I’m sure you remember, life was pretty strange back then, as we were all locked down in our homes due to the pandemic and had to pass the time somehow.

While standing in the yard and sort of daydreaming a bit, I recalled a conversation I’d heard on a podcast or radio show earlier in the day. During that show, the year 1991 was brought up, and I remember thinking, “damn, next year (2021) we will be 30 removed from ‘91”. It blew my mind. I tend to think of life in terms of music, and for me, as many Gen Xers, 1991 was a massively important year in terms of music and culture. It changed everything.

So, with that in mind, I went back into my house and just started writing my thoughts down about that year, what it meant to me, the music I discovered, and the impact it and so much of what came after have had on me right up through this very day. A few months later, I found myself with over 30,000 words, some chapters, and the skeleton of a book.

To avoid making this answer too long, I’ll fast-forward to a meeting with a publisher (after many rejections or simply being ignored by other publishers had taken place) who was given a description of my “book” by a mutual friend. Luckily for me, they loved the idea and wanted to learn more. As they say, the rest is history.

One thing that sets this book apart is how it takes your own story and parallels it with what is happening in the music scene. It would’ve been easy to write a more straightforward history of the scene–and a lot of people would’ve dug that. What made you decide to pivot this into a more personal narrative?

This is a great question because, at first, the intention was to chronicle the scene without too much of a personal narrative. I don’t believe there are many books that do that with regard to the early Seattle movement. There are plenty of books on bands and artists from that era, but I can’t think of one that walks you through the overall story.

As I was writing it, though, it became obvious that the reason I love the music and culture from that period as much as I do is due in large part to how it shaped and helped me from the earliest moments of me hearing it. I couldn’t separate myself from the music. I’ve always believed that the personal lyrics and vulnerability of the songs played as much of a role as the sound of the music did in creating a global fanbase.

Millions upon millions upon millions of people cared about this music and still do today, so it didn’t seem right to leave my story out. I knew other fans would be able to relate because their stories probably mirrored mine in many ways.

You make no secret of your mental health struggles here. For me, this made reading the story that much more authentic. What sort of other feedback have you received from people? Have you been doing (or plan to do) any speaking on the topic as you do press for the book?

I appreciate you saying that. In early drafts of the book, I hinted at certain things about the issues and trouble I had back then, but I wasn’t fully letting go. I have to give credit to my publisher, Inspired By You Books, and their editors for teaching me how to let go. They saw what I was doing and worked with me to dig deeper and allow myself to be more upfront about my life rather than tiptoe around the more difficult topics.

As far as feedback, I’m so grateful that it’s been overwhelmingly positive thus far. They like the musical aspects for sure, and many casual fans of the era have told me they learned so much about the scene, how and when some of the bands started, etc. One thing almost everyone has said, though, is that they were taken aback by my story (most people in my life knew little to nothing about some of the more personal aspects) and that, in some cases, has given them courage to start talking about past trauma they’ve been through. Some have even told me things that they never told anyone else.

I wasn’t prepared for that, but I cannot tell you how happy it makes me that people struggling with things found at least a small step towards dealing with their struggles because they’ve read my book. As for speaking engagements surrounding the topic of mental health and/or how music plays a role in healing, I’ve given a few talks so far and absolutely plan on doing more.

There’s a passage–and I’m paraphrasing here– that says, “When strange things get stranger or just played out, and the youth of any generation decides it’s time for a change, things happen.” In your opinion, are we there now? We could take this in numerous socioeconomic directions, but I’m specifically interested in hearing how it might relate to music and how we discover and consume it. Listening parties are back in fashion. Blogs are in vogue. Are we there? If so, what’s that next phase look like?

I hope so!! Had I been asked this question prior to 2020, I’d say that we may never see a change in music or youth culture again. I was pretty sure of that. Since then, however, I have changed my mind. I think we’re living through very strange, difficult, and dare I say bizarre times right now, and I’ve seen and heard more than a handful of bands and artists rising to the challenge of creating something new.

Back in the day, music discovery was limited to Top 40 radio, MTV, fanzines, corporate magazines, and, to a lesser degree, your local scene. Distribution for the local or underground music was essentially nonexistent, so without major record labels and the money and power that came with them, we “discovered” what they told us to. It just so happened that what they gave us in the late 80s and early to mid-90s was pretty damn great. That music was the definition of change and rebellion to the norm at that time.

In today’s musical and cultural landscape, that doesn’t exist outside of pop music (included in that are the vanilla versions of hip hop and country). But because of streaming technology and the social media revolution, we can find anything we want. It takes more effort than it did back when it was spoon-fed to us, but it’s more fun this way.

I find most of the new music I love by diving down rabbit holes on YouTube or Instagram, Spotify, and the like. They say that if something was truly great, or at least powerful enough to have made a large dent in culture, it will find its way back every 25-30 years. This is because the original youth audience has grown up, had kids of their own to expose it to, and those kids have reached an age where they become inspired enough to put their spin on what they’ve been shown.

I think we are at that point now. I feel like the future of music will get edgier and angrier than it has been in a while, and hopefully, it will become popular enough to influence future generations to continue that sonic cycle.

In the book, you state that “Smells Like Teen Spirit” isn’t the best song on Nevermind, but rather that “Lounge Act” is. That’s a take sure to raise some eyebrows. Say more on that, please.

Ha…I’m glad you picked up on that. Let me first say that I LOVE “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” I thought it was an amazing song in 1991, and I think it’s an amazing song now. I honestly do not get tired of hearing it. It’s the reason the scene had a chance to take off and thrive, so it’s undoubtedly one of the most important songs of all time.

As far as my comment about “Lounge Act” being better, it’s a matter of taste. ‘Teen Spirit’ has that perfect verse-chorus-verse arrangement (the song actually begins with the chorus but without any vocals so you don’t really get the full punch) to it so once you get through the first chorus, the formula is there and you know what to expect.

Like I said, amazing song, blew me away when I first heard it. “Lounge Act,” with its infectious bassline that starts the track, instantly finds its way into your bloodstream. It’s just a great, solid groove. But as the song continues, it slowly builds up, feeling a little anxious and ready to explode.

The problem is, you don’t know where or how it will explode because the verses and choruses don’t change much, except for those slight upticks in tempo and feel. Then, the last verse hits, and structurally it’s the same as the others except Kurt is now screaming the vocal part. This is the payoff. It floored me the first time I heard and I just fell in love with it from that day on. It’s so simple yet I can’t recall hearing a song with such a slow build up (for a fast song no less) that leads to this visceral pounding.

As you look back now on the process of writing this, what surprised you the most?

The biggest surprise is that I finished it. I gave up a couple (or five) times. I took month-long breaks from writing a single word. I fought bouts of Imposter Syndrome. I had never written a book before and had absolutely no clue just how hard it would be. I believed in it though, so no matter the obstacle or length of time, I was determined to finish it.

One of the people you interviewed stated [they] believe record stores are more important than churches or cathedrals. I agree and would add concert halls to the list. What do you think it was that made those places so sacred for people like you and me?

Yes, that was John Richards, host of the morning show on KEXP in Seattle. He’s a legendary figure on the music scene, and since he’s my age, he was there when it all started. I loved speaking with him.

Record stores, along with music venues, as you mentioned, were the communal foundation for music fans from our generation. I lived in my local record store from 1991-1994. I spent most weekends going to small and medium-sized clubs in NYC to see any and every band I could. This was during the very infancy of the internet and more than a decade before any semblance of social media, so these places are where we found our tribe. People who wanted to watch, listen to, and discuss music.

It’s where we not only felt welcomed but also belonged. Those stores and venues, although owned by others, were ours, and we all felt it.

Towards the end, you touch on the idea that describing what it was like to be on the scene in 1991 will never come close to actually being there. Was trying to do that one of the reasons for writing this book? Mission accomplished?

Absolutely! When I was in college, I spent a ridiculous amount of time in the school’s main library for a kid who barely held a C average. I wasn’t studying or doing homework as you can gather by my previous sentence. Instead, I was reading every book I could find on The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, and any other musician or band I liked or simply heard of.

I immersed myself in cultures I wasn’t alive to see for myself but wanted to learn about. I’ve always been the type of music fan who reads every liner note inside the album jacket, every story and interview in the magazines, and watches every documentary I can. I was a sponge and information about music was the water. The more I knew about my musical heroes, the more I wanted to listen to their music.

Fast forward to today, or more importantly, when I started writing the book, I wanted to “pay back” the authors who wrote all the books I read from days gone by and hopefully have SLACKER become one of those books for some wide-eyed kid wanting to learn about music he or she wasn’t alive for. I want it to be a historical document as well as a relatable story of a kid who had his ups and downs, but through these bands, and through this music, made it out far enough to write a book about it all and hopefully inspire others to do the same if they so choose.

Mission accomplished? I think so, but time will tell I guess.

Last one, just for fun, you got tickets for a show this weekend. Who are we going to see?

Hmmm. Well, if you’re talking about a band from back in the day, it would have to be Nirvana. I say that because they’re just about the only band from that era I didn’t see. As you know, they broke big very quickly, in January of 1992. That’s when Nevermind went to number one on the Billboard album chart and the band only lasted a little more than two years beyond that. They didn’t tour a ton in the States after Nevermind took off, and for me in New York, most of their shows were for TV and a few invitation-only shows.

If your question is geared for the present day, I’d say we’re going to see either Bad Nerves or Winona Fighter.

Thanks so much, Kevin, this was a lot of fun!

We want to get this book into your hands! Want one? Here’s all you need to do:

  • Entrants must be subscribed to On Repeat Records or KevinSent.
  • Comment below and/or restack this post before 11:59 PM CDT on Wednesday, July 23rd, 2025.
  • Entries will be thrown in a wheel, with the winning name drawn on Thursday.
  • This is open to all readers. As always, Paid supporters of the newsletter automatically get two entries, and free subscribers can restack the post for a second entry.

It’s that easy!

I wanna win!

Of course, there’s a playlist!

You can connect with Rob and grab your copy of Slacker via his website, or on Substack.

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts! Sound off in the comments or send me an email- I read every one of ‘em.

Thank you to Rob for his time, and thank you for being here.

Kevin—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 37

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 37

#15 Madonna, Like a Prayer vs. #114 Peter Murphy, Deep

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at records from Madonna and Peter Murphy

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably definitely be some typos.

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

KA—

In 1989, Madonna was everywhere. How you react to that sentence is a tell. Older readers will simply nod in agreement, with younger readers wondering what the fuss is. She was riding high on a string of hit records. She’d tried acting with somewhat less success. She’d been in a high-powered/, hot-tempered marriage with actor Sean Penn—the kind of wild ride that launches entire tabloids—or at least it did in 1989.

By the time Like A Prayer rolled around, most of that was beginning to show her. But Madonna Louise Ciccone was never one to shy away from a bit of controversy.

Ask that same crowd about MTV, and they’ll likely launch into a stemwinder about the channel actually playing videos. That’s true. There was more to life than just Tosh 2.0 ad infinitum. They also premiered videos in a way that harkened back to the glory days of Hollywood. A Madonna video? That was a big f’in deal. And it was appointment viewing.

You also have to understand that anything even vaguely religious was likely to give legions of Americans the vapors. Add a little interracial love into the mix, and you’ve got a bona fide scandal on your hands—a scandal that, at the very least, cost her a Pepsi commercial.

That video was for the title track on Like A Prayer, her blockbuster record. In the years up to this, she’d shown she was never afraid to push boundaries, but to this writer’s ears, the record serves as a dividing line: On one side, you have her earlier poppier sounds. This is the world of “Holiday” and “Angel.” Fantastic tracks, but there’s not a lot of heft there.

On the other hand, you have an artist trying to take back control of the narrative. She’s not Sean Penn’s wife anymore. She doesn’t owe anyone. Free of those guardrails, she’s free to push up against the corners and pressure test her sound. She wasn’t gonna answer to anyone.

If the title track didn’t telegraph that message, the second track, “Express Yourself,” surely did. This is Madge’s declaration of independence, and it’s a banger.

It’s not a clean break, though. “Til Death Do Us Part” is a bit of easy-breezy pop reminiscent of so much of her earlier stuff. “Cherish” doubly so; so much so that I could have sworn it was actually on True Blue. All well and good until you read the lyrics for the former and realize she’s singing from inside the dystopian hellscape of an abusive relationship. Oof.

Knowing the history (or at least what we read about in the papers), it’s hard not to see this record as explicitly autobiographical. And maybe it is. Today, stars leveraging trauma for clicks and money is par for the course. Thirty-six years ago, not so much. And in the end, maybe it doesn’t matter. Art and real life have always been a blurry line for her. What Like a Prayer made clear was that anything after this was going to be on her own terms.

That both Love and Rockets and Peter Murphy have records in this challenge should tell you something about the bumper crop of records we got that year. When talking about Love and Rockets earlier in the series, I commented that it felt like they were trying to make as un-Bauhaus of a record as possible. The same holds true here, with the band’s frontman shedding many darker themes and moods for something…accessible? The tracks here have a bigger, almost bombastic sound. His deep voice makes for quite a contrast against the (relatively) lighter sounds. It’s not hard to imagine a much more mainstream act doing “Crystal Wrists.”

Dare I say that Murphy is a fan of pop?

Lyrically, the record leans towards themes like love and the world around him. You have to work to untangle those words, though. Murphy likes to wrap his lyrics in riddles. They’re often enigmatic, and the challenge makes deciphering them feel all the sweeter. If you need an exact time to call Bela Lugosi’s death, let me point you to the 4:18 mark on the hit single “Cuts You Up.” This is when everything bursts open and the track hits peak exit velocity. It’s anthemic.

Bela Lugosi is dead, and he’s not reanimating for this record.

My vote: I’m a friend of the goths, but it was always gonna be Madge.

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!

Check out the full bracket here.

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

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 36

by Kevin1 Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 36

34 Bonnie Raitt, Nick of Time vs. #95 The Field Mice, Snowball

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at records from Bonnie Raitt and The Field Mice

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably definitely be some typos.

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

KA—

Blockbuster…Comeback…Second Act…Phoenix-like. These are all descriptors for Bonnie Raitt’s Nick of Time record, and they’re all words you’ve read before. You won’t have to reread them here, but I think it’s important to note just how much that idea of starting new colors this record. Raitt was recently sober, out of a relationship1, and looking for a new label.

Capitol took a chance on her, signing her to a smaller-scale deal. It became a hit, and the rest, they say, is history. It’s a great story! Plenty of friends came along for the ride (Herbie Hancock, half of CSNY, etc.), and a Hiatt cover is always a good thing (“Thing Called Love”).

But here’s the deal; at this point, it wasn’t a comeback.

After all, if you’ve never had a hit, what are you coming back to?

Most people will recognize “The Thing Called Love,” the sultry title track, and “Have a Heart.” Today, the latter is a regular on your local grocery store’s playlist, but in 1989, it was everywhere. These three are solid and make an excellent case for the record. But she really shines on lesser-known tracks like “Real Man” and “The Road’s My Middle Name.” The latter is your standard blues that Raitt’s voice is made for.

By this point, Raitt had been through it and was ready for a new chapter. Free from high expectations (or really any expectations at all), Raitt could be herself and sing about the things on her mind. On the title track, Raitt sings, Life gets mighty precious when there’s less of it to waste. With Nick of Time, she made a record that sounds timeless. Yell “Noonan!” all you want; Raitt’s not gonna miss here.

If Raitt was at least a known quantity, The Field Mice were the exact opposite. I’d never heard of them, let alone this record.

No vocals for the first couple of minutes is a choice. It’s also maybe not the best one if you’re making a pop record in 1989, but what do I know? Maybe they were “doing it for the art,” or whatever.

Snowball is charming, I suppose. If you like softer side jangle pop, this’ll check a lot of boxes. I suspect that whoever nominated this did so out of an outsized sense of nostalgia. This could have reminded them of grad school (or the British equivalent) and a love that lasted only until graduation. Most of us have one of those, right?

Otherwise, the record is serviceable enough. As noted, there’s some pleasant jangle on here, and some fun bits of twee pop. Kinda feels like The Housemartins meets Prefab Sprout. But in 1989, there were quite a few better records to pick from, even within this subgenre.

My vote: Gimme some full throated blues from someone who’s seen some things any day. My bracket pick and vote will both be going to Bonne Raitt.

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!

Check out the full bracket here.

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

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 35

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 35

#31 Ministry, The Mind Is a Terrible Thing to Taste vs. #98 Sepultura, Beneath the Remains

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at records from Ministry and Sepultura

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably definitely be some typos.

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

KA—

I’m very much in the “Make Ministry synth pop again!” camp, but also loved The land of R*pe and Honey. I also had no reason to be angry about anything, but teenage angst is funny that way, I guess.

At any rate, earlier this year, frontman Al Jourgenson decided to listen to the masses (or his accountant) and put out The Squirrelly Years Revisited, a remaking/refresh of those early records.

Writing about it I noted,

In May of 1983, Ministry recorded With Sympathy. Frontman Al Jourgenson then spent the ensuing years telling anyone who’ll listen that it’s awful. If the “Make Ministry synthpop again “memes are anything to go by, many people never go to the memo. They’re also now getting what they want…kind of.

After With Sympathy, Ministry recorded Twitch and then began releasing a series of industrial and metal records, both as Ministry and with side projects like Revolting Cocks. All well and good until you make the same record several times in a row. The first time you hear a record like The Land of Rape and Honey, it’s amazing. But it only takes a few records to see that Jourgenson was on autopilot. For me, it was like the music version of the law of diminishing marginal returns.

Sometimes I wonder if with each passing record, Jourgenson was trying to get further and further away from those early releases. But here’s the thing: people liked records like With Symptahy and Twitch—at least where I lived, anyway. And even today, the coolest people I know still work “Every Day is Halloween” into their October playlists.

The Mind Is a Terrible Thing to Taste feels like him in a full sprint. It’s a great fusion of thrash, metal, and industrial. It’s bruising and the sort of record that is either perfect for channeling the misdirected anger you have in your life, or leaves you feeling like you’ve been in a bar fight. Better this than punching a wall or running red lights. The riffs are jagged, the beats pulverizing. It’s like taking the hardest parts of Skinny Puppy and dialing them up (they too would experiment with “louder, faster, more!” soon enough). The best parts of the record are where Jourgenson seamlessly blends industrial and metal elements. Tracks like “So What” are almost-almost!- Dance floor ready. You can run, but you can’t hide.

If nothing else, it serves as a decent enough vehicle for escape. Speaking of which, it’s worth noting that Jourgenson was absolutely off his rocker on drugs at this point.

At any rate, with each Ministry record, I grew further away from them while also (ironically) more into the Ministry adjacent bands like RevCo, and Murder Inc. Go figure. Listening to this again feels like falling into a time machine where I’m again fretting about acne, some girl, and god knows what else.

Pity my friend Mark. He is responsible for so much of my music discovery. He tried so hard to get me into Sepultura. This was literally a decades-long project. And yet, it was all for naught. It took a bracket challenge on Bluesky of all places to finally get me to listen to them.

And look, this record rips! If you’re a metal fan, you’ll love it. It’s in the same wheelhouse as LPs like Metallica’s Kill’ Em All and even Suicidal Tendencies. Perfect for ripping along back roads at 110 mph. Best played loud and not on a pair of work speakers at 8 AM, but you do what you gotta do. if I had to name a pull track, “Inner self” would do the trick.

All in all, a solid outing! A cursory glance online says that this is also a fan favorite, so there’s that.

I wouldn’t have much minded this as a teenager, but I likely would have only gone as far as getting a copy from someone. Maybe. I was just too far gone into other genres to dig this. Besides, a lot of the same people listening to this in ‘89 were the ones throwing me into lockers during passing time. Sorry, Marky, but I’m going to pass.

My vote: Chicago > Belo Horizonte. Would love to hear what you 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!

Check out the full bracket here.

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

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 34

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 34

63 The Primitives, Pure vs. #66 Bob Dylan, Oh Mercy

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at records from the Primitives and Bob Dylan

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably definitely be some typos.

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

KA—

Pure is The Primitives’ sophomore record, following Lovely (home of the hit “Crash”). They’re often lazily categorized as “pop,” though I’d say any Venn diagram should include pop, power pop, and new wave. On this release, I might add a smaller circle for psychedelia.

This record is a sign of the time, and no one was impervious to the “Madchester” sound. You can hear bits and pieces of it worked in throughout the record. Pure is an album loaded for bear with lethal hooks and jangly guitars— all supporting Tracy Tracy’s distinct vocals. This makes for a solid if disposable batch of pop songs.

Here’s the thing, though; things get interesting when the band starts playing further afield- I’m thinking specifically of the tapping into that experimental psychedelia, but more importantly, tracks where guitarist PJ Court takes over on vox. Maybe it’s because it’s an unexpected change, but I found those tracks to be the record’s highlights. You would be excused for mistaking “All The Way Down” for a Jesus and Mary Chain track. “I Almost Touched You” sounds like (insert your fave Madchester band here), but is still a fun listen.

Ultimately, this record was a pleasant diversion. Certainly not unforgettable, and unlikely something I’ll reach for again, but with a couple of tracks that’ll probably wind up on a playlist or two at some point.

Kinda like a lot of the Manchester bands of the era.

As soon as I saw this record made the cut, I knew this was coming.

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.

He made a Christian rock record, and it didn’t go down well. My first thought was that this was another helping of that, and a sermon from Bob Dylan was absolutely not something I needed.

Cueing up opener “Political World” made defaulting to all my preconceptions easy. I vaguely remember hearing it, and wondered if I’d found it as pedestrian then as I did today. We talked about Lou Reed’s New York recently, and all I could think of was how much better he did the “The world is shit” bit better with his “Dirty Blvd.” track.

(sigh)

But a funny thing happened on the next track (“Where Teardrops Fall”); I found myself almost… enjoying it? What was happening here?! “Everything Is Broken” has an easy rhythm and groove that is even better. Was I…was I digging a Dylan record? Order was restored with “Ring Them Bells,” a ballad that did absolutely nothing for me. It’s nice, I guess. I’m sure one of the reply guys has this on their funeral playlist. That’s fine, too. “Man in the Long Black Coat” felt vaguely Biblical, like he hadn’t quite moved past the idea of witnessing to all of us. It’s also got about 12m listens on Spotify as I type this, so clearly someone, somewhere digs it.

Ultimately, Oh Mercy breaks a streak of some awful records, even by his standards. That’s a notch in the win column. Daniel Lanois and the musicians did well to create a soothing and uneasy atmosphere (depending on the track).

Compared to his other records, I found this to be pretty good! Not bad, even! But it’s still not something I’d proactively reach for. And it’ll never beat that version of “Jokerman.”

I’ll see you in my inbox.

My vote: The winner here meets Paul’s Boutique in the next round, so any victory’ll be short-lived. My bracket pick played to my confirmation bias (80s kid energy vs. Ok Boomer vibes). But after listening again, my vote today’ll likely go to Dylan. Would love to hear what you 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!

Check out the full bracket here.

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

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 33

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 33

2 Beastie Boys, Paul’s Boutique vs. #127 Cardiacs, On Land and in the Sea

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at records from Beastie Boys and Cardiacs

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably definitely be some typos.

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

KA—

Last fall, Sam Colt and I took on the absurd fun idea of writing up our respective Top 100 lists. We started at 100, and over several weeks worked out way to the top. I’ll say only this; Paul’s Boutique made it’s appearance pretty late in the game. Felt strange trying to describe what is best described as the band’s magnum opus, but below is/was my attempt.

Around the time this came out, a guy was something of an extra in the movie of my life. He was a DJ, and I’d see him everywhere. Tower Records, house parties, on the street; you name it. I lived in a suburb, but it wasn’t that small. He would refer to himself as “{your] hip hop connection” and hand us a business card, which I guess was the late 80s way of building a brand. I dunno. But he was really good at turning people on to new records. One of them was Paul’s Boutique.

Running into him on the street, he was evangelical about the record, almost begging us to buy it and see for ourselves. I did…and was promptly disappointed. In hindsight, I should‘ve known a DJ would talk up a record built on samples- so many, in fact, that a lot of them are almost unrecognizable. But I was expecting/half hoping for a License to Ill PT II. That, of course, wasn’t going to happen. Time and the band had moved on.

What we got instead was nothing the world had ever seen. MCA hadn’t yet gone full monk, but he was already cooler than a cucumber in a bowl of hot sauce. Tracks like “Shake Your Rump” show Ad-Rock and Mike D largely dropping the frat boy bit but none of their swagger. For anyone looking for “Brass Monkey” or a similar ditty about chasing girls, “Hey Ladies” will have to do. “Sounds of Science” is still a banger. “Looking Down The Barrel of a Gun” feels like an homage to the Cookie Puss days. This is a hip-hop record, but they were a band first.

It took me a while, but I came around to his record. Several months later, I was at a party where my DJ friend was spinning wax. He played “Sounds of Science,” and the place came alive. Later that night, we were outside smoking, and I told them I loved the record. “Man, I told you!” he said, “If you ever need a DJ, let me know,” pressing yet another business card into my hand.

Thirty-something years later, my son tagged along with me to our local record store. He liked rap and was looking for what would be his first vinyl buy. I sold him on Paul’s Boutique the same way I had been all those years—and miles—ago. He walked out the door with a copy.

If listening to Paul’s Boutique made me feel 10 times cooler, playing On Land and in the Sea did the opposite. I know there’s a whole world of fans out there that dig this sort of thing, but it just felt like a bit that would show up on an episode of The Young Ones. Something Vyv would love and something Mike the Cool Person wouldn’t touch. Rick would go predictably berserk, and Neil would say something out of pocket about carrots, or whatever. Hijinks ensue! Yawn.

My vote: Is there any question? A record that upended a whole genre for the better, or one that had me looking for some Anacin? Paul’s Boutique. All 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!

Check out the full brackethere.

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

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 32

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 32

44 Soundgarden, Louder Than Love vs. #85 Skid Row, Skid Row

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at records from Soundgarden and Skid Row

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably definitely be some typos.

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

KA—

Earlier this year, I used a piece of lawn furniture I once owned to make the case that Soundgarden belonged in the rock and roll hall of fame, noting:

I was also recently doing some purging and found a picture with some friends at Portland International Raceway from that same era. We were there for an Indy Car race before that weird split fractured all open-wheel racing in the U.S. into god-knows-what.

In that (unfiltered, thankyouverymuch) picture, most likely taken with a disposable camera, are three of us who have had just a little too much to drink and have definitely had too much sun. The fourth thing in the frame was a chair named “Full On Kevin’s Chair,” after the Soundgarden song.

This track is from the band’s Louder Than Love LP, a record that sounds best turned up to 11.

There is a notion that bands from the NW were writing more innovative music than their heavy metal counterparts- that the music was somehow smarter. As someone from that part of the world, I’m happy enough to go along with that. But the reality is that Soundgarden wasn’t exactly singing about the global south or scientific breakthroughs.

They were (often) making songs about sex and not exactly being abstract about it. Just look at “Hands All Over,” the aforementioned “Full on Kevin’s Mom,” and Big Dumb Sex (a piss take on heavy metal/glam rock bands like today’s opponent). For the latter, if the title wasn’t a giveaway, one only needs to play the chorus (and maybe not at work).

Mostly, though, it was a record begging to be played loud. It was never about the words, anyway, was it? It was about the sound full of bludgeoning riffs and concussive beats that you feel so much as you hear. Frontman Chris Cornell would go on to earn a bit of heartthrob status, and the band would go on to hit great heights and worldwide fame. But in 1989, they just wanted to rawk. Mission accomplished.

The first green shoots of grunge on the Left Coast were in some part a response to glam metal and bands like Skid Row. After all, Soundgarden couldn’t have made a parody song if the “real” version hadn’t first existed.

In Skid Row’s case, somewhere under all that spandex and Aqua Net (so much Aqua Net), was a band that at least superficially was earnest. Soundgarden was making carols about fucking with a wink and a smile. In New Jersey, Skid Row didn’t bother with any such artifice. For all the yowls and whirring guitars, even the ballads like “I Remember You” and the cautionary tale “18 and Life” feel plaintive, innocent even. At the other end, there were rippers like “Big Guns” and “Youth Gone Wild,” a track which thumped out of many a speaker in my part of the world before we all learned that hip-hop was the genre best suited to rumble out of our trunks.

Stylistically, if Soundgarden didn’t easily fit in any box, Skid Row took the best parts of bands like Def Leppard and put their own spin on them. And we haven’t even got to the band’s secret weapon: Sebastien Bach. His penchant for being over the top works in the record’s favor and doesn’t overpower the music- it lifts it up. When it worked, it worked (18 and Life, Big Guns, I Remember You).

In between, though, were some tracks that were just sort of okay. Some filler was par for the course, but it takes what could’ve been a great review and leaves it as merely good. But Youth Gone Wild sure still sounds good blaring out of a car stereo, even if that car is now a station wagon in the suburban Midwest.

My vote: I’ve got to stay true to my Best Coast roots here. And besides did Skid Row ever inspire someone to rename a lawn chair? I think not. My bracket and vote will both go to Soundgarden.

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!

heck out the full bracket here.

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

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 31

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 31

#21 Lou Reed, New York vs. #108 Tone Lōc, Lōc-ed After Dark

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at records from Lou Reed and Tone Loc.

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably definitely be some typos.

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

KA—

By the time the late 80s rolled around, Lou Reed was on something of a downswing- I say this not with the backing of any empirical information, but rather the prevailing mindset of people in my circle and what I was hearing on the radio/MTV.

The Velvet Underground still carried emeritus status -and some people were into their records because that’s just what you were supposed to have in the crate. If your parents had a copy? That telegraphed a sense of coolness you couldn’t buy. But by 89, VU was something from the past. It would eventually become my fave record of his, but New Sensations (great!) had been followed with Mistrial (not so much).

Say what you will about Reed, but he’s certainly willing to transform himself and his style. If Mistrial was an attempt at creating a synthetic version, New York was about a return to basics–and nothing says “return to basics” like a record about your hometown.

New York in the 1980s was beset by socioeconomic ills—AIDs, crack, and more. The big apple was rotting, and Reed was right under the tree. He did the only thing he could—he wrote some of the best songs of his career.

It’s worth noting the irony that the same person who sang “Sister Ray” and “I’m Waiting for the Man” is penning polemics about the scourge of drugs. But times change, and people do, too.

The songs on New York are over-indexed on pop/rock. Reed has some things on his mind, and 1989 was not the time for a field trip into Metal Machine Music territory or whatever esoteric pursuits he might’ve wanted to follow. Instead, we get one of the most straightforward records in the catalog.

“There is no Time is a ripper” (that’s a sentence I never thought I’d type about a Reed song), and plenty of tracks come as close as Reed’s gonna get to pop as well. “Dirty Blvd.” is the story of a kid growing up in a hotel and wound up hitting #1 on the Billboard Modern Rock charts…and that might not even be the 2nd or 3rd best track on the record.

I’m mindful that many people rank Reed higher than they might otherwise because of his– and VU’s–status in the rock canon. Fair enough, but fair play to Reed- when he’s on, he’s on, and this is a helluva record.

Reed might have once been down, but he was never out—and neither was the city (or people) he sang about.

Whoever nominated Tone Loc’s Loc-ed After Dark must either have A: Been waxing nostalgic, or B: just returned from a cruise.

I vote for B since artists like Tone Loc always find a second life on such excursions. Your mom, dad, (or grandparents!) relive the wild parts of their youth while also wearing wristbands, entitling them to an endless buffet and bottomless drinks. No house party here. No pre-planning on which backyard fence to jump if need be. It’s a very curated sort of hedonism.

While Reed was writing about cities falling apart, Loc was penning tracks about clothes coming off and any other sort of tawdry thing you can imagine. Pop culture was full of big hair and small bikinis. Some of the biggest stars weren’t even people—they were dogs used to sell beer…and it worked.

This being 1989, outsized guitar riffs weren’t entirely out of style- indeed, they were just what many of us were still clamoring for, and a well-placed Van Halen riff propping up verses easy to sing along to when drunk made for a winning recipe, which makes the case for option B. Time sweetens all memories, and we remember the good parts of the parties, not the mornings after or the gouges on one ‘s leg that came from picking the wrong fence. Cruise lines, too, have figured this out, and these have become a cash grab, with just about any genre you want available on the high seas.

With the benefit of hindsight, Loc-ed After Dark is derivative. He’s got a unique voice…until you realize that so did the DOC (note: I’m not calling either out for WHY their voices are the way they are- only noting the similarities).

His flow is fine…until you remember that Rakim exists.

Ditto Slick Rick when it comes to the writing itself. Even the cover art pips Donald Byrd’s New Perspective album.

And there’s a bit of trans and/or homophobia worked in on “Funky Cold Medina,” because, of course, there is. I wonder if Nana and Papa will still sing along with that line on the main deck?

So what’s good about this record? For one, the sampling. The Dust Brothers are on the boards and brought a big-ass crate into the studio. “Funky Cold Medina” alone pulls from no less than six tracks. “Cutting Rhythms,” seven. And for the latter, the roster ranges from Steely Dan to Juice to Wings (!). Anytime you’re surprised and delighted by a sample is a good thing, and it’s a notch in the win column for Loc-ed After Dark, but it’s not enough to overcome the dated way the album sounds. It’s enough to make me want to miss my Joe Camel t-shirts.

Bottom Line: Both records represent the bipolar nature of 1989 well. It was truly a “best of times, worst of times” situation, and what side you were on depended on a lot of factors you likely had no control over. One record telegraphs that you were cool in a hipster sorta way in ’89, while the other says you were a lout. And for a lot of us, given how blurred those lines got, we were both. That said, one record holds up well in 2025, while the other feels like I’m watching a beer ad while clipping Marlboro Miles.

My vote: Start spreading the news; My vote and my bracket pick are going to Lou Reed’s New York.

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!

Check out the full bracket here.

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

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 30

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 30

#53 Operation Ivy, Energy vs #76 Ciccone Youth, The Whitey Album

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at records from an antecedent of Rancid, and a Sonic Youth side project.

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably definitely be some typos.

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

KA—

The strip mall Babylon I grew up in was punctuated with subdivisions that only kinda connected with one another. You could get there, but winding up on a new street sometimes felt like you needed a passport. Meeting in shared spaces like the Chevron parking lot or the local elementary school was much easier. The latter had a huge covered area–this was Oregon, after all– that lent itself nicely to skating during the off hours. Invariably, someone would bring a boombox and something like Operation Ivy would soundtrack the session. My block had a taste for bands like Jawbreaker, while the next subdivision over fell in love with 3rd wave ska like this.

Like many bands of the era, Operation Ivy burned fast and burned quickly, which often makes me wonder if that brevity leads to more of a legacy than might otherwise be warranted, similar to the way Joy Division is lionized. Like our friends from Manchester, Op Ivy was only around for a couple of years and really only released one full-length record (there was also Hectic, an EP, but I digress).

Similarly, some of the band members went on to relative fame after the dissolution of this one, with Tim “Lint” Armstrong and Matt Freeman moving on to help form Rancid.

The record is loud, fast, and brash. Think of Ranicd before; some of the edges were sanded off. They were a little bit messy and had minimal low-end. Jesse Michael’s voice sounds like he’s living on a steady diet of Marlboros and fast livin’. This was just how we liked it. The lyrics covered the usual bases (love, F authority, etc.), all with a beat going 100 mph. Think a sped-up version of the Clash.

It’s also worth noting that this record hit in the very narrow sweetspot before purity tests and gatekeepers took back over; no one bothered to tell them that they weren’t playing ska “correctly,’ or that it wasn’t fast (or angry) enough to be punk. They did their own thing, fused the two, and let’er rip. If you’re new to this record, start with “Soundsystem” and go from there. You might also recognize opener “Knowledge” from Green Day’s cover of it.

Energy is a solid record that lends (lends?) itself well to those sorts of drives that go nowhere on purpose or an afternoon skating session on an unseasonably sunny fall Saturday. It’s a landmark album of third-wave ska/ska-punk that inspired many bands that went on to far greater levels of fame than they enjoyed.

Operation Ivy walked so Green Day could run.

There’s no shortage of bands that are essentially Sonic Youth tribute bands. Nothing wrong with that, but I’m always more interested in what Sonic Youth were into. What ingredients went into the sound that ultimately influenced so many?

I don’t have a full list, but at one point, they were into Madonna enough to record a few tracks for a tribute record that never came to pass. But the band wasn’t about to leave those on the shelf. The result? One of the oddest side projects of the day: The Whitey Album by Ciccone Youth (Madge’s legal last name).

I vaguely recall reading that SY had all their gear stolen at one point. That’s bad enough on its own, but I knew from seeing them that they used some instruments for a specific song or even a specific effect. Again, going off of memory, but I could swear some were described as things like “the one used with a screwdriver.” (EDIT: I found a list and a plea from Lee Ranaldo for its safe return.)

I mention this because, at first, The Whitey Album feels like the sorts of odds and ends that can only come from noodling around in the studio and testing things out. The first couple of tracks are full of odd snippets and sounds that never quite arrive at being fully formed. There’s even a full minute of silence (the aptly titled “Silence”).

“G-Force” is one of those tracks where Kim Gordon does something resembling a rant or poetry slam. Dealer’s choice. In other words, something only Sonic Youth can get away with. That’s all good, but like on their other records, it can feel like a toll you need to pay to gain access to the good stuff.

And The Whitey Album does have a couple of those nuggets. Their version of “Burnin’ Up” is a slowed-down, louche version. It’s great. It’s also something only this band could pull off. “Into the Groovey” is about as faithful a rendition as you’re gonna get here, mainly due to sampling the original. “Tuff Titty Rap” is a nod to old school hip hop and feels like the band had two too many margaritas before trying to karaoke something off of LL Cool J’s Walking With a Panther, getting just far enough in before the Dj cut the mic.

“Too Cool Rock Chicks Listening to Neu” might be the most niche title we see in the first round, and I’m here for it (not so much the song, though).

So! What to make of all this, exactly? In some ways, The Whitey Album feels like an inside like four friends are all in on, and in others like something best left in the studio. It’s too earnest to be a joke album, yet too joke-y to be regarded as a regular album. Is it satire? Is it art? You can never be sure with Sonic Youth, but you’re better off for having experienced it. And maybe that’s the point.

Bottom Line: If The Whitey Album was labeled as a Sonic Youth Record, I think it would sail through primarily on name recgontion. Similarly, if the name Operation Ivy had been replaced with the band’s logo, it would’ve punched above its weight. I love both these bands, and nostalgia admittedly plays into that. I am lucky to have both seen SY play and been turned onto Operation Ivy by the older kids in my circle.

That said, Energy holds up way better than The Whitey Album. Sure, once you’ve heard one song, you’ve (more or less) heard them all, but I happen to like those songs, and I think that outweighs The Whitey Album’s coming across more as an experiment than anything else.

My vote: My bracket pick and vote will be going to Operation Ivy.

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!

Check out the full bracket here.

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

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

New Order’s ‘Technique’ | A Quick Look at the Band’s Seminal 1989 Record

by KevinLeave a Comment on New Order’s ‘Technique’ | A Quick Look at the Band’s Seminal 1989 Record

On their fifth release the dance rock pioneers hit their peak

Album art courtesy of Qwest Records

Good Morning!

Today we’re taking another quick look at ‘Technique’ by New Order as it takes on Billy Joel’s Storm Front on Day 29 of the Best Record of 1989 Challenge.

There’s not much point in burying the lede here; this lookback won’t come close to being objective. If you’ve been with us for more than a few weeks, you know my love for this band and are keenly aware that On Repeat Records could devolve into a New Order fan page at any moment.

That said, this record is a massive achievement for the band at a time when not much else was going right for them-certainly not internally, anyway. To put something out amidst so much strife and financial pressure alone would be worth noting. That it is some of the best work they’ve ever produced makes it all the more remarkable.

Most people will remember March 24th, 1989, as the date the Exxon Valdez ran aground. I remember walking to the closest shopping mall to get tickets to see New Order.

That was the closest Ticketmaster outlet, and I was probably halfway down the street before my mom had even finished giving me permission. With the benefit of hindsight — and now being a parent myself — I now know what a huge leap of faith this must’ve been for her. We lived in the suburbs, and she was giving the green light to an (almost) 14 yr. old to ride the bus across the metro area to see a band she heard nonstop but didn’t know.

I suppose on some level you just know when to let your kids leap.

The band was on the road supporting their 5th studio album, Technique, and it came out when I was in junior high. The record was one of the bright spots in an otherwise blah era for me.

If Low Life is a show at an intimate venue, Technique is a sweaty rave filled with strobe lights and ecstasy. Indeed, the record was partly recorded in Ibiza with the band off their rockers. Technique is firmly rooted in the sounds surrounding them in their new environs. They choose the sunny locale at Hook’s insistence after a run of recordings made in “dark and horrible” London studios. The band decamped for Ibiza, hoping the change in scenery (and menu of drugs) would have the same positive effect that New York had had for them years earlier.

It worked…sort of…

After four months, the band only had ‘Fine Time’ and a couple of other tracks recorded to show for their time on the island. Declaring their holiday over, their label called them back to the UK, where they finished the record at Peter Gabriel’s Real World Studios.

We had expected to hear a lot of acid house music when we got to Ibiza because that had taken off in Manchester two to three months before we left, but we didn’t – we were hearing something called Balearic Beat,” Bernard said.We were actually disappointed at first because we were really into acid house, and what we heard, this Balearic Beat, was this crazy mash-up of styles and really commercial-sounding but there was also some really good stuff. By the end of our time there we were really influenced by it.

Their time in the sun may seem unproductive on the surface, but it had left an indelible mark on the group’s sound.

Fine Time is an acid-house Balearic Beat classic. Round and Round1 is pop perfection and saw decent airtime on MTV.

Run is credited to not only New Order, but also (*checks notes) John Denver?!

Yes, really. Denver sued the band, alleging that the guitar riffs were lifted from his Leaving On a Jet Plane.The case was settled out of court, with his name subsequently added to the credits.

A mediocre picture of the fantastic ‘Fine Time’ 12”. Photo by author.

We could do a track-by-track breakdown, but the short version is this: Technique feels like the band’s most honest record. Whether that’s down to the drugs or the Balearic sun, I don’t know. In the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter.

Perhaps more importantly, it is economical. Listening to it, every note has its place, and there is nothing extraneous. It’s both a dance record and a pop record—in other words, a New Order record—but listening to it, there is a discipline that sets it apart from the band’s previous work.

The songs themselves are compact; the sequencers nailed down— there is no 9-minute version of anything on this LP. By this point, the band had also mastered the art of shifting between pop and dance tracks.

On Brotherhood, a distinct boundary exists between the two (literally- the styles each have their own side on the album). There are no guardrails here; the band makes segueing between styles look easy.

All of that is well and good, but why is it my number 1?

Technique was really the first record by the band that I found on my own. Yes, I knew them. Yes, I’d heard almost everything they had recorded up to that point. But this was different; I’d learned of its release on my own and gone and bought it with my own money.

No hand-me-downs from friends’ older siblings or songs clipped from mix tapes. You always remember your first…

Good records always take you somewhere special. Thirty-five years later, Technique still does that for me.

Listen:

New Order | Technique, 1989

Click the record to listen on the platform of your choice.

What are your thoughts on this record? Do you have any favorite tracks or memories associated with it? At 35, does it still hold up? Share your thoughts in the comments!

As for Storm Front, aside from it never having a chance going up against New Order, it’s not good. I might be the only one that likes “We Didn’t Start the Fire,” but even that’s just one song on a totally dour record. “Go to Extremes” is a nice bit of pop, I guess. The rest just feels like Joel mailed it in. No thanks.

Check out the full bracket here.

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

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—