Download it here:
Besnard Lakes - Albatross
Sunday, January 31, 2010
New Besnard Lakes! A Top 500 endorsement
Download it here:
Besnard Lakes - Albatross
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Viewer Mail - "More than a feeling?"
I've been getting some very welcome feedback on the blog and a recent exchange was worth repeating. I've narrowed the "Mike" in question down to two people. I decided I don't have to know which one it is to reply.
Mike said...
This is truly astounding Jay. I have always considered myself as very "into music" and fairly opinionated on the topic but your undertaking here has left me feeling like a exclusively top 40 radio listener. It's actually a bit intimidating. I feel like anyone who has gone to this much effort must A)care more about music than I do and B)have a more informed opinion than I do. Probably true on both counts (although music is huge part of my life).
I can't help feel though that there is something a bit "wrong" about the whole enterprise. I like your example of the Bob Dylan/Corey Hart issue. It is true that I feel that some music is much much better than other music. I think though that the operative word here is "feel". I either like something or I don't and I think it is much more of a feeling than a decision. This feeling is based on a number of factors but how I judge the song is based on the feeling, not the factors. It's a reaction to it, whether it pumps me up, brings me down, makes me think about or remember something or all those things at once. You may even say it's "More Than a Feeling". Something indescribable. That is what makes music beautiful. It's mostly unquantifiable for me. I just don't know if the "goodness" of a song is something that one can have any kind of sensible argument about. I think you would agree that a song is much much more than the sum of it's parts (as is a band)so breaking it down into its constituent virtues doesn't capture it for me. It's the reason I don't read record reviews very carefully and the reason I don't spend much time thinking about what it is I like about a painting. I either like it or I don't and I think that should be enough.
Don't get me wrong it's not that I don't care that much. I just think that it is a unbelievably difficult endeavor to have an argument that can come anywhere close to resolution about THE top 500 songs, but I guess that is not the point. I suspect that it is not the destination you are interested in but the journey. Journey is on the list somewhere right? Anyway, like I said kudos for the undertaking man. Truly impressive. I'll be interested to read the witty exchanges that are sure to ensue.
My reply...
Jay said...
I have no illusions about the hopelessness of the endeavour. You're absolutely right, the joy is in the journey not the destination. At the end of the day nothing definitive can actually be said (although, goddammit, a lot of good arguments will be tabled) -- but the fun is in the trying. As Elvis Costello once said, "Writing about music is like dancing about architecture". My response to that is, "Yes, YES! Let me see you dance about architecture and we will see what we can learn!". I also think that this...this "thing" I got going on is a combined consequence of....
PS. Journey did not make the list. Do you want to know why?
Mike said...
This is truly astounding Jay. I have always considered myself as very "into music" and fairly opinionated on the topic but your undertaking here has left me feeling like a exclusively top 40 radio listener. It's actually a bit intimidating. I feel like anyone who has gone to this much effort must A)care more about music than I do and B)have a more informed opinion than I do. Probably true on both counts (although music is huge part of my life).
I can't help feel though that there is something a bit "wrong" about the whole enterprise. I like your example of the Bob Dylan/Corey Hart issue. It is true that I feel that some music is much much better than other music. I think though that the operative word here is "feel". I either like something or I don't and I think it is much more of a feeling than a decision. This feeling is based on a number of factors but how I judge the song is based on the feeling, not the factors. It's a reaction to it, whether it pumps me up, brings me down, makes me think about or remember something or all those things at once. You may even say it's "More Than a Feeling". Something indescribable. That is what makes music beautiful. It's mostly unquantifiable for me. I just don't know if the "goodness" of a song is something that one can have any kind of sensible argument about. I think you would agree that a song is much much more than the sum of it's parts (as is a band)so breaking it down into its constituent virtues doesn't capture it for me. It's the reason I don't read record reviews very carefully and the reason I don't spend much time thinking about what it is I like about a painting. I either like it or I don't and I think that should be enough.
Don't get me wrong it's not that I don't care that much. I just think that it is a unbelievably difficult endeavor to have an argument that can come anywhere close to resolution about THE top 500 songs, but I guess that is not the point. I suspect that it is not the destination you are interested in but the journey. Journey is on the list somewhere right? Anyway, like I said kudos for the undertaking man. Truly impressive. I'll be interested to read the witty exchanges that are sure to ensue.
My reply...
Jay said...
I have no illusions about the hopelessness of the endeavour. You're absolutely right, the joy is in the journey not the destination. At the end of the day nothing definitive can actually be said (although, goddammit, a lot of good arguments will be tabled) -- but the fun is in the trying. As Elvis Costello once said, "Writing about music is like dancing about architecture". My response to that is, "Yes, YES! Let me see you dance about architecture and we will see what we can learn!". I also think that this...this "thing" I got going on is a combined consequence of....
- a personality type: the "collector", a need for conceptual order
- my training as a social scientist, researcher, and appreciative inquirer
- the object under study: the passion and love for music itself
PS. Journey did not make the list. Do you want to know why?
Sunday, January 24, 2010
What’s in a List? Musings on the Top 500 Song Criteria...
For a long time I fantasized (is that too strong a word?) about having an authoritative Top 500 list. I am not sure why now, in 2010, the time was right. Maybe it has to do with a certain birthday I just had. Maybe I finally felt confident (i.e., arrogant) enough in my perspective on the world of music that I was ready to engage in the most difficult and complex ranking exercise I have ever undertaken. Initially the idea was Top 1000, but my wife suggested that I was avoiding the hardest decisions. My critical pride could not weather this position and I conceded that a Top 500 list was more honorable.
I have been asked on several occasions to describe what my criteria are for song inclusion. I cannot say I had the time or inclination to apply any sort of formal ranking equation. See John Sellers’ fairly interesting book Perfect From Now On, for a bonafide equation to quantify the relative awesomeness of bands. Perhaps it should be done for songs as well. In any case, an intuitive process has been occurring in my head. And this process is paramount for proper defense of and debate about the Top 500. In other words, I am not proclaiming this list to merely be “My Top 500 favorite songs”. I am proclaiming this list as a candidate list for “THE Top 500 Best Songs”. Not that a proclamation such as this could ever be “ratified” as true (this is, after all, a tongue-in-cheek proposition)…but I will give you my reasons, and loudly so.
Let’s examine this a bit more. A friend suggested that a list like this cannot “fail”, it cannot be wrong, because it is MY list of favorite songs. A song is highly rated because I said so, because I love it, end of story. I vigorously challenge this intepretation. I did not construct a mammoth Top 500 list only to defend it with purely relativist arguments about art. Because to concede this position is to suggest that the Beatles can be equated with the Backstreet Boys.
[Note: Some VJ asswipe on MuchMusic ACTUALLY made this comparison in an interview with the Backstreet Boys. Or at least suggested, without a tinge of irony, that people were making such comparsions and that this was reasonable. If I hate the Backstreet Boys for one reason, it is because the lead jackass Boy who was responding DIDN’T say “Are your out of your mind? The Beatles? Please don’t embarrass yourself”. No, without a shred of self-consciousness, he neither accepted or denied this comparison, which essentially allowed its validity]
“But everyone is entitled to their opinion!”
There is not a more detestable sentiment, in my mind. Not because it is untrue – everyone IS entitled to their opinion, as we are free (generally) to say whatever the fuck we want. It is detestable because it is used as a warrant to make an argument that the opinion in question should be at least equally valued and, horrifyingly, “respected”. The “my opinion” argument is a lazy strategy to participate in debate without having anything to say. If this criticism sounds elitist, it’s because it IS elitist. Which I don’t mind in the least. I didn’t spend my entire life immersed in the immense beauty and vast world of music to have some hosebag lumber in with the opinion that “Van Halen rules”.
["They totally rule, man! They ROCK! They kick the ASS of the fag music you listen to. What is that band…Joy Divison? That’s shit. That’s not music. HALEN is music, dude"]
Subjectivity is in the details. If your favorite song on Bob Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde is “Visions of Johanna” and mine is “Just Like a Woman”, there is a very little information available that could aid us in discerning “who is right”, and nor should we try – we can happily agree to disagree. However, if you proclaim that Corey Hart is a better artist than Bob Dylan then I will argue the point. The fact that your preference for Corey Hart’s crybaby rock balladry is based on your own opinion will not save you. You are entitled to your opinion, but that doesn’t mean your opinion is an informed and defensible one. Now of course I am not suggesting that taste can be somehow objectively legislated – Corey Hart lovers can happily lap up his pabulum all they like. But if you are going to engage in any sort of argument about “relative worth” or “merit” then you better have more to go on than your mere unregulated opinion.
And so here I have 8 criteria that help my muddled brain sift through the reasons why a song is great, Top 500 worthy, and better than other songs that are also quite good. The percentages are rough weightings.
1. Overall Sense of Awesomeness – 25%
2. Melody and Hookiness – 25%
3. Vocal Execution – 15%
4. Sonics & Production – 10%
5. Lyrical Quality – 10%
6. Autobiographical Import - 10%
7. Historical Import – 5%
8. Uniqueness – up to +5% innovation bonus.
1. Overall Sense of Awesomeness
While all criteria are necessarily subjective, this one is especially so, because I am not attaching it to any specific dimension. If I tend to listen to a song a lot, especially over time, if I know it intimately, if it appears over and over on mixes for friends, and so on, it has a high level of awesomeness. These are the intangible, intuitive perceptions of a song. When I get backed into a corner about comparing a song I love to a song that I love less, this criterion may be applied. This is why, for example, I can happily select a #1 song that scarcely anyone has heard before.
2. Melody and Hookiness
This element is the most important song dimension. You would think it would go without saying, but it must be said. To me, a song survives or dies based on its melody and that intangible quality called “catchiness”. Songs suck because they have low melodic character. The centrality of melody is the main explanation of why I have a general dislike of rap and hip hop, many forms of jazz, and many forms of classical (this will be elaborated in another posting, at some point). All this said, melody alone rarely wins the day because several of the other criteria can completely compromise a good melody. The best songs in the world sung by Whitney Houston or Celine Dion quickly become awful loads of shit. What exactly constitutes a “good melody” is a mystery of the art. I’m not sure we’ll ever quite know, even if we can identify a few compelling devices that can be used to great melodic effect (e.g. a prolonged delay in resolving a chord progression, a rising key change coming out of bridge, etc.).
3. Vocal Execution
Vocal execution can make or break a song. Somehow, when vocal approaches become recycled recipes for pop stardom, I land on the side of dislike. I question myself all the time if I am being an elitist outsider. Am I disliking a vocal because the masses love it? I can’t be. My reaction is visceral and automatically negative when I hear vocals of modern alternative, 80s heavy metal, overwrought pop balladry, and twangy new country. The fact that these pop categories sell millions of records is not my problem. So does Radiohead, and Thom Yorke’s vocal execution, within the band’s oeuvre, is transcendent.
To use an example, I am of the opinion that Celine Dion is objectively terrible because her communicated vocal intent is so saccharine, so insipid, so overwrought, that she loses all artistic credibility. It’s like telling someone you love them with a recycled Hallmark card – its cliched emotional larceny, and it should be stopped. To say I hate Celine Dion’s voice, however, is a complicated position to take, since she obviously sings in tune and can belt out a song like nobody’s business. She is techically expert. She also makes me want to stab ice picks into my ear drums. This criterion is not about “vocal talent” but execution, which is remarkably different. Execution refers to style and emotional intent, rather than professionally developed talent that returns the same genre category regardless of who is emoting. This is, essentially, the difference between the raw beauty of unestablished folk music and the commodified, formulaic singing we find in American Idol.
It’s the difference between Jeff Mangum of Neutral Milk Hotel (above) and, say, Michael Buble. Mangum has an authenticity in his vocal execution that is so alarmingly personal and powerful that it makes Buble embarrassing to even acknowledge. It does not matter that Mangum is sometimes flat, and sometimes can’t hit the high notes. In fact, the high end vocal cracks add to the fragile emotional character. It’s the difference between Becky Stark of Lavender Diamond (above, at right) – who is technically wobbly at times but who can bring me to tears – and Beyonce, who can sing, but bores me with her warmed over pap.
4. Sonics and production
Sonic decisions – decisions about sound, instrumentation, arrangements – must be tormenting for some artists. As a musician myself, being confronted with 10x10 (100) MIDI synthesizer options or guitar effects can be downright paralyzing. Some artists stick to a recipe of sound that defines them, which is comforting (if sometimes limiting). For example, Elliot Brood sticks to the two guitars, banjo, and a basic drum set up, ensuring a consistent flow of dark cowpunk anthems. Others embrace electicism, like the Flaming Lips and Yo La Tengo, which translates into cross-genre hopping and diverse sonic outcomes. Whether under a directive of consistency or eclecticism, these decisions are crucial. Deciding to transmit the backdrop melody via a vibraphone or steel drum has drastically different sonic consequences than doing so via electric guitar or hammond organ. Great bands make great decisions, and the Top 500 represent the best of these decisions. You need only listen to the array of inferior cover versions of your favorite songs for this point to sink in.
Production is another facet of sonic decisions, but is more fundamental. Production decisions may subsume many sonic decisions but they are also concerned with the overall Gestalt of the song. A great song with great sonic decisions, fabulous melody and vocal execution, etc., can still be compromised by ill-advised production and mastering decisions. A favorite example is the “Phil Spector-ing” of The Beatles’ Let it Be – classical string and choral additives made “Across the Universe” a very different song for the final mix. Some argue that Spector ruined it. I’m undecided, but what a different feel the song has on the untouched Past Masters!
The question for the Top 500 is, what constitutes superior sonics and production, all other elements assumed equal? This is a pretty personalized thing…I suppose I feel that there are extreme, oversized examples where its alllllll wronngggg – comprised of mostly Top 40 radio. But then within the parameters of more flexible and independent music it is highly subjective. For example, I think we should all agree that Creed and Nickelback have a consistent sonic and production quality that is extremely tired and featureless – we should all reject the sound as unredeeming and lame. But then if you find a particular Sufjan Stevens song a little too neo-classical and busy, well, that’s your issue and I don’t care to quibble with you. I also won’t mind if you find Times New Viking too fuzzy and abrasive. They are, and its not for everyone. Fucking love it though.
5. Lyrical quality
I have a strange relationship with lyrics. The impact of lyrics on how much I like song is like an elongated “U” distribution, seen below (please click to enlarge):
For the most part, lyrics that are approaching good or approaching bad do not have much an impact on the extent to which I like or dislike a song. I can be fairly indifferent (represented, predictably, by the “Zone of Lyrical Indifference” in the graphic). Only once lyrics start to become “Great” do they really figure into the equation. Conversely, lyrics that approach “Awful” can begin to totally fuck a song. For example, when I was a teen I remember initially liking “Sky Pilot” by The Animals. Then I started to pay attention to some of the lyrics. Eric Burdon, a legend to most classic rockers, has the lyrical aptitude of a fourth grader. Here is a cardinal sin: never, EVER, rhyme “cry” with “die” (or “sigh”), unless you're Morrissey.
He smiles at the young soldiers
Tells them its all right
He knows of their fear in the forthcoming fight
Soon there'll be blood and many will die
Mothers and fathers, back home they will cry
Sky pilot.....sky pilot
How high can you fly?
You'll never, never, never reach the sky
The “Mothers and fathers, back home they will cry” line has Yoda-esque syntax, obviously constructed to get that crucial “die” rhyme down along to the end of the stanza. It’s embarrassing, and the lyrical impotence of this anti-war song otherwise destroyed a fairly good melody.
Conversely, the song “Suzanne” by Leonard Cohen is so rich with metaphor I am still discovering meanings in it 20 years later. The song itself is understated, with a basic acoustic guitar line and an anachronistic (but lovely) 60’s backing vocal. The melody is wonderful, but I wonder where this song would sit in the Top 500 without the lyrical wonder. Suzanne is #10 on my all-time list, and as represented in the graph, when a song has astounding (“sublime”) lyrics, the overall liking function grows exponentially. Here’s the second stanza:
And Jesus was a sailor
When he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching
From his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain
Only drowning men could see him
He said "All men will be sailors then
Until the sea shall free them"
But he himself was broken
Long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human
He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone
And you want to travel with him
And you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you'll trust him
For he's touched your perfect body with his mind.
Entire doctoral dissertations could be written around these lines.
In any case, I think intentionality also plays a role in my appraisal of lyrics. The Doors wrote poor lyrics because Morrison fancied himself a mystical sage or something and his profundity fell short 95% of the time. If he stuck to "Light My Fire" type lyrics, I wouldn't begrudge him a thing and the Doors would probably fall in my Zone of Lyrical Indifference. Camper Van Beethoven do not suffer in the least for writing about skinheads and dogs flying away to the moon. There are no grandiose intentions and so there is no need to make judgments against them. That's why pop love songs are so often abhorrent...love should be profound or at least clever, but too much has been said about it, and we are forced to endure lyrical oatmeal. But when you aim for transcendence and attain it? The lyrics become the epicenter -- a half decent melody will often mean a superior song.
Incidentally, here are my Top 5 lyricists:
1. Billy Bragg
2. Matt Johnston (The The)
3. John Darnielle (The Mountain Goats)
4. Leonard Cohen
5. Stephen Merritt (Magnetic Fields)
Autobiographical Import
There are certain songs that were playing during critical times in my life, songs that are so inseparable from me and from my identity, that I have absolutely no hope of stepping outside of them and judging their merit. This is more than just being “too close” to a song. This about the song having intermixed with your DNA somehow -- you are genetically altered to respond to it. Interestingly, this need not suggest that the songs in question are your favorite songs. Rather, it is merely the case that a song is so autobiographically important, so essential to your person, that it is artificially improved in your estimation, even if that improvement doesn't translate into "favorite song" status. Armageddon by Prism comes to mind or that ridiculous song by Aldo Nova ("Fantasy"?). These are bad songs made tolerable and occasionally enjoyable by nostalgia. On my critieria, they'd get high Autobiographical Import points, but not much else.
There are some songs that would stand on their own regardless – “Uncertain Smile” by The The is autobiographically crucial to me, which makes me love it all the more. But I think I know that it is a good song regardless.
Sometimes a song can exist as a favorite even though you are fairly certain you would otherwise hate it (or be indifferent to it) if you were to hear it today for the first time. My quintessential example is “Riverboat Fantasy” by David Wilcox. This style of bluesy frat-rock is abhorrent to me. Wilcox is a dolt and his kind of stuff is tripe. But I fucking love "Riverboat Fantasy", because it was playing all the time (to my consternation) on our dorm floor in first year university. This was a great year, a wonderful time of my life. Fond, fond memories have been encoded in the song, which I had internalized despite myself. I hear the song the way Wilcox intended – with carefree abandon. Hell, yeah! "Riverboat Fantasy" did not make the Top 500 on the grounds that if I removed it from my biography, I would actively dislike it. Another example is the theme song “Free To Be You and Me” by Marlo Thomas– a nostalgia trip every time.
I should mention that autobiographical effects can sometimes work in the other direction. I might be inclined to reject a song that I would otherwise like because of its place in my own history. I’m looking at you, “Stairway to Heaven”. Historical Import (described below), of which Stairway to Heaven has buckets, is always trumped by Autobiographical Import.
Historical Import
There are some songs that deserve added consideration because of their place in the pantheon of rock music. There are a number of examples that moved up the ranks for this reason. “Won’t Get Fooled Again” by The Who, “Born to Run” by Bruce Springsteen, “Let it Be” by the Beatles and “Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd were all initially placed lower than their final positions. Why? Because I completed the list, looked at it, and then became uncomfortable or even disgusted with how poorly I treated these Rock MONOLITHS. How could “Won’t Get Fooled Again” not get into the Top 50? Similar to Autobiographical Import, it is hard to separate the song from historical context -- suddenly the song has historical “rights” that one is required to respect.
I experienced Historical Import most profoundly when I was deciding how to represent The Byrds. The Byrds were an important band – the words jingle and jangle would be less potent without them. But the Byrds can also be accused of standing on the shoulders of giants. Many of their hits were reworkings of other luminaries – the filching from Dylan was legendary. As I poured over my favorite Byrds songs, I felt only one would need representing and I landed on “Turn! Turn! Turn!” This song, originating from Pete Seeger, is so engrained in popular 60’s counterculture, so iconic, epic even, that there was no other choice. I flirted with
“Eight Miles High” and “Chimes of Freedom”, but they are pale comparators to this giant of a song. Now, of course I love the soaring harmonies of this gem, of course I do, but it is the Historical Import that pushes the song into Top 500 contention. Because frankly I find the sentiment of the song itself (filched not from Dylan but from Ecclesiastes 3:1) to be silly, trite, and possibly offensive. There is a time for hate! When is that, King Solomon!? When is that Pete Seeger!? I suppose it doesn’t matter when Roger McGuinn, David Crosby, and Gene Clark are weaving their harmonies.
Uniqueness
I pay attention to innovation, to experimentation, to songs that challenge the listener in some way. If this is done in the pop format and does not sacrifice other criteria, this makes a song stand above the overly crowded pop landscape. For example, the sonic/production of Animal Collective are trailblazing a whole new genre and this translates into a high level of Uniqueness, making them one of my Top 5 bands of the new millenium. Some recent examples of envelope-pushing in the pop format are the Dirty Projectors and Dan Deacon.
Okay, stay tuned till next time when I answer a question posed by Barry from High Fidelity.
I have been asked on several occasions to describe what my criteria are for song inclusion. I cannot say I had the time or inclination to apply any sort of formal ranking equation. See John Sellers’ fairly interesting book Perfect From Now On, for a bonafide equation to quantify the relative awesomeness of bands. Perhaps it should be done for songs as well. In any case, an intuitive process has been occurring in my head. And this process is paramount for proper defense of and debate about the Top 500. In other words, I am not proclaiming this list to merely be “My Top 500 favorite songs”. I am proclaiming this list as a candidate list for “THE Top 500 Best Songs”. Not that a proclamation such as this could ever be “ratified” as true (this is, after all, a tongue-in-cheek proposition)…but I will give you my reasons, and loudly so.
Let’s examine this a bit more. A friend suggested that a list like this cannot “fail”, it cannot be wrong, because it is MY list of favorite songs. A song is highly rated because I said so, because I love it, end of story. I vigorously challenge this intepretation. I did not construct a mammoth Top 500 list only to defend it with purely relativist arguments about art. Because to concede this position is to suggest that the Beatles can be equated with the Backstreet Boys.
[Note: Some VJ asswipe on MuchMusic ACTUALLY made this comparison in an interview with the Backstreet Boys. Or at least suggested, without a tinge of irony, that people were making such comparsions and that this was reasonable. If I hate the Backstreet Boys for one reason, it is because the lead jackass Boy who was responding DIDN’T say “Are your out of your mind? The Beatles? Please don’t embarrass yourself”. No, without a shred of self-consciousness, he neither accepted or denied this comparison, which essentially allowed its validity]
“But everyone is entitled to their opinion!”
There is not a more detestable sentiment, in my mind. Not because it is untrue – everyone IS entitled to their opinion, as we are free (generally) to say whatever the fuck we want. It is detestable because it is used as a warrant to make an argument that the opinion in question should be at least equally valued and, horrifyingly, “respected”. The “my opinion” argument is a lazy strategy to participate in debate without having anything to say. If this criticism sounds elitist, it’s because it IS elitist. Which I don’t mind in the least. I didn’t spend my entire life immersed in the immense beauty and vast world of music to have some hosebag lumber in with the opinion that “Van Halen rules”.
["They totally rule, man! They ROCK! They kick the ASS of the fag music you listen to. What is that band…Joy Divison? That’s shit. That’s not music. HALEN is music, dude"]
Subjectivity is in the details. If your favorite song on Bob Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde is “Visions of Johanna” and mine is “Just Like a Woman”, there is a very little information available that could aid us in discerning “who is right”, and nor should we try – we can happily agree to disagree. However, if you proclaim that Corey Hart is a better artist than Bob Dylan then I will argue the point. The fact that your preference for Corey Hart’s crybaby rock balladry is based on your own opinion will not save you. You are entitled to your opinion, but that doesn’t mean your opinion is an informed and defensible one. Now of course I am not suggesting that taste can be somehow objectively legislated – Corey Hart lovers can happily lap up his pabulum all they like. But if you are going to engage in any sort of argument about “relative worth” or “merit” then you better have more to go on than your mere unregulated opinion.
The Top 500 Ranking Criteria – A Recipe for Aural Goodness
And so here I have 8 criteria that help my muddled brain sift through the reasons why a song is great, Top 500 worthy, and better than other songs that are also quite good. The percentages are rough weightings.
1. Overall Sense of Awesomeness – 25%
2. Melody and Hookiness – 25%
3. Vocal Execution – 15%
4. Sonics & Production – 10%
5. Lyrical Quality – 10%
6. Autobiographical Import - 10%
7. Historical Import – 5%
8. Uniqueness – up to +5% innovation bonus.
1. Overall Sense of Awesomeness
While all criteria are necessarily subjective, this one is especially so, because I am not attaching it to any specific dimension. If I tend to listen to a song a lot, especially over time, if I know it intimately, if it appears over and over on mixes for friends, and so on, it has a high level of awesomeness. These are the intangible, intuitive perceptions of a song. When I get backed into a corner about comparing a song I love to a song that I love less, this criterion may be applied. This is why, for example, I can happily select a #1 song that scarcely anyone has heard before.
2. Melody and Hookiness
This element is the most important song dimension. You would think it would go without saying, but it must be said. To me, a song survives or dies based on its melody and that intangible quality called “catchiness”. Songs suck because they have low melodic character. The centrality of melody is the main explanation of why I have a general dislike of rap and hip hop, many forms of jazz, and many forms of classical (this will be elaborated in another posting, at some point). All this said, melody alone rarely wins the day because several of the other criteria can completely compromise a good melody. The best songs in the world sung by Whitney Houston or Celine Dion quickly become awful loads of shit. What exactly constitutes a “good melody” is a mystery of the art. I’m not sure we’ll ever quite know, even if we can identify a few compelling devices that can be used to great melodic effect (e.g. a prolonged delay in resolving a chord progression, a rising key change coming out of bridge, etc.).
3. Vocal Execution
Vocal execution can make or break a song. Somehow, when vocal approaches become recycled recipes for pop stardom, I land on the side of dislike. I question myself all the time if I am being an elitist outsider. Am I disliking a vocal because the masses love it? I can’t be. My reaction is visceral and automatically negative when I hear vocals of modern alternative, 80s heavy metal, overwrought pop balladry, and twangy new country. The fact that these pop categories sell millions of records is not my problem. So does Radiohead, and Thom Yorke’s vocal execution, within the band’s oeuvre, is transcendent.
To use an example, I am of the opinion that Celine Dion is objectively terrible because her communicated vocal intent is so saccharine, so insipid, so overwrought, that she loses all artistic credibility. It’s like telling someone you love them with a recycled Hallmark card – its cliched emotional larceny, and it should be stopped. To say I hate Celine Dion’s voice, however, is a complicated position to take, since she obviously sings in tune and can belt out a song like nobody’s business. She is techically expert. She also makes me want to stab ice picks into my ear drums. This criterion is not about “vocal talent” but execution, which is remarkably different. Execution refers to style and emotional intent, rather than professionally developed talent that returns the same genre category regardless of who is emoting. This is, essentially, the difference between the raw beauty of unestablished folk music and the commodified, formulaic singing we find in American Idol.
4. Sonics and production
Sonic decisions – decisions about sound, instrumentation, arrangements – must be tormenting for some artists. As a musician myself, being confronted with 10x10 (100) MIDI synthesizer options or guitar effects can be downright paralyzing. Some artists stick to a recipe of sound that defines them, which is comforting (if sometimes limiting). For example, Elliot Brood sticks to the two guitars, banjo, and a basic drum set up, ensuring a consistent flow of dark cowpunk anthems. Others embrace electicism, like the Flaming Lips and Yo La Tengo, which translates into cross-genre hopping and diverse sonic outcomes. Whether under a directive of consistency or eclecticism, these decisions are crucial. Deciding to transmit the backdrop melody via a vibraphone or steel drum has drastically different sonic consequences than doing so via electric guitar or hammond organ. Great bands make great decisions, and the Top 500 represent the best of these decisions. You need only listen to the array of inferior cover versions of your favorite songs for this point to sink in.
Production is another facet of sonic decisions, but is more fundamental. Production decisions may subsume many sonic decisions but they are also concerned with the overall Gestalt of the song. A great song with great sonic decisions, fabulous melody and vocal execution, etc., can still be compromised by ill-advised production and mastering decisions. A favorite example is the “Phil Spector-ing” of The Beatles’ Let it Be – classical string and choral additives made “Across the Universe” a very different song for the final mix. Some argue that Spector ruined it. I’m undecided, but what a different feel the song has on the untouched Past Masters!
The question for the Top 500 is, what constitutes superior sonics and production, all other elements assumed equal? This is a pretty personalized thing…I suppose I feel that there are extreme, oversized examples where its alllllll wronngggg – comprised of mostly Top 40 radio. But then within the parameters of more flexible and independent music it is highly subjective. For example, I think we should all agree that Creed and Nickelback have a consistent sonic and production quality that is extremely tired and featureless – we should all reject the sound as unredeeming and lame. But then if you find a particular Sufjan Stevens song a little too neo-classical and busy, well, that’s your issue and I don’t care to quibble with you. I also won’t mind if you find Times New Viking too fuzzy and abrasive. They are, and its not for everyone. Fucking love it though.
5. Lyrical quality
I have a strange relationship with lyrics. The impact of lyrics on how much I like song is like an elongated “U” distribution, seen below (please click to enlarge):
He smiles at the young soldiers
Tells them its all right
He knows of their fear in the forthcoming fight
Soon there'll be blood and many will die
Mothers and fathers, back home they will cry
Sky pilot.....sky pilot
How high can you fly?
You'll never, never, never reach the sky
The “Mothers and fathers, back home they will cry” line has Yoda-esque syntax, obviously constructed to get that crucial “die” rhyme down along to the end of the stanza. It’s embarrassing, and the lyrical impotence of this anti-war song otherwise destroyed a fairly good melody.
Conversely, the song “Suzanne” by Leonard Cohen is so rich with metaphor I am still discovering meanings in it 20 years later. The song itself is understated, with a basic acoustic guitar line and an anachronistic (but lovely) 60’s backing vocal. The melody is wonderful, but I wonder where this song would sit in the Top 500 without the lyrical wonder. Suzanne is #10 on my all-time list, and as represented in the graph, when a song has astounding (“sublime”) lyrics, the overall liking function grows exponentially. Here’s the second stanza:
And Jesus was a sailor
When he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching
From his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain
Only drowning men could see him
He said "All men will be sailors then
Until the sea shall free them"
But he himself was broken
Long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human
He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone
And you want to travel with him
And you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you'll trust him
For he's touched your perfect body with his mind.
Entire doctoral dissertations could be written around these lines.
In any case, I think intentionality also plays a role in my appraisal of lyrics. The Doors wrote poor lyrics because Morrison fancied himself a mystical sage or something and his profundity fell short 95% of the time. If he stuck to "Light My Fire" type lyrics, I wouldn't begrudge him a thing and the Doors would probably fall in my Zone of Lyrical Indifference. Camper Van Beethoven do not suffer in the least for writing about skinheads and dogs flying away to the moon. There are no grandiose intentions and so there is no need to make judgments against them. That's why pop love songs are so often abhorrent...love should be profound or at least clever, but too much has been said about it, and we are forced to endure lyrical oatmeal. But when you aim for transcendence and attain it? The lyrics become the epicenter -- a half decent melody will often mean a superior song.
Incidentally, here are my Top 5 lyricists:
1. Billy Bragg
2. Matt Johnston (The The)
3. John Darnielle (The Mountain Goats)
4. Leonard Cohen
5. Stephen Merritt (Magnetic Fields)
Autobiographical Import
There are certain songs that were playing during critical times in my life, songs that are so inseparable from me and from my identity, that I have absolutely no hope of stepping outside of them and judging their merit. This is more than just being “too close” to a song. This about the song having intermixed with your DNA somehow -- you are genetically altered to respond to it. Interestingly, this need not suggest that the songs in question are your favorite songs. Rather, it is merely the case that a song is so autobiographically important, so essential to your person, that it is artificially improved in your estimation, even if that improvement doesn't translate into "favorite song" status. Armageddon by Prism comes to mind or that ridiculous song by Aldo Nova ("Fantasy"?). These are bad songs made tolerable and occasionally enjoyable by nostalgia. On my critieria, they'd get high Autobiographical Import points, but not much else.
There are some songs that would stand on their own regardless – “Uncertain Smile” by The The is autobiographically crucial to me, which makes me love it all the more. But I think I know that it is a good song regardless.
Sometimes a song can exist as a favorite even though you are fairly certain you would otherwise hate it (or be indifferent to it) if you were to hear it today for the first time. My quintessential example is “Riverboat Fantasy” by David Wilcox. This style of bluesy frat-rock is abhorrent to me. Wilcox is a dolt and his kind of stuff is tripe. But I fucking love "Riverboat Fantasy", because it was playing all the time (to my consternation) on our dorm floor in first year university. This was a great year, a wonderful time of my life. Fond, fond memories have been encoded in the song, which I had internalized despite myself. I hear the song the way Wilcox intended – with carefree abandon. Hell, yeah! "Riverboat Fantasy" did not make the Top 500 on the grounds that if I removed it from my biography, I would actively dislike it. Another example is the theme song “Free To Be You and Me” by Marlo Thomas– a nostalgia trip every time.
I should mention that autobiographical effects can sometimes work in the other direction. I might be inclined to reject a song that I would otherwise like because of its place in my own history. I’m looking at you, “Stairway to Heaven”. Historical Import (described below), of which Stairway to Heaven has buckets, is always trumped by Autobiographical Import.
Historical Import
There are some songs that deserve added consideration because of their place in the pantheon of rock music. There are a number of examples that moved up the ranks for this reason. “Won’t Get Fooled Again” by The Who, “Born to Run” by Bruce Springsteen, “Let it Be” by the Beatles and “Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd were all initially placed lower than their final positions. Why? Because I completed the list, looked at it, and then became uncomfortable or even disgusted with how poorly I treated these Rock MONOLITHS. How could “Won’t Get Fooled Again” not get into the Top 50? Similar to Autobiographical Import, it is hard to separate the song from historical context -- suddenly the song has historical “rights” that one is required to respect.
I experienced Historical Import most profoundly when I was deciding how to represent The Byrds. The Byrds were an important band – the words jingle and jangle would be less potent without them. But the Byrds can also be accused of standing on the shoulders of giants. Many of their hits were reworkings of other luminaries – the filching from Dylan was legendary. As I poured over my favorite Byrds songs, I felt only one would need representing and I landed on “Turn! Turn! Turn!” This song, originating from Pete Seeger, is so engrained in popular 60’s counterculture, so iconic, epic even, that there was no other choice. I flirted with
Uniqueness
I pay attention to innovation, to experimentation, to songs that challenge the listener in some way. If this is done in the pop format and does not sacrifice other criteria, this makes a song stand above the overly crowded pop landscape. For example, the sonic/production of Animal Collective are trailblazing a whole new genre and this translates into a high level of Uniqueness, making them one of my Top 5 bands of the new millenium. Some recent examples of envelope-pushing in the pop format are the Dirty Projectors and Dan Deacon.
Okay, stay tuned till next time when I answer a question posed by Barry from High Fidelity.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
The Top 500 List and the Problem with the Beatles
Back in the 1980s, hockey pools – those competitions to see who could draft the best fantasy hockey team – were required to institute some variation on the “Wayne Gretzky Rule”. Wayne Gretzky was so skilled, so fundamentally superior, he was either removed as a draftee or he was severely handicapped (e.g., -80 points) so as to give the other teams a fighting chance. Wayne Gretzky, if included in competition and not handicapped, would almost certainly guarantee a victory.
This notion of handicapping needed to be applied in some fashion to the Greatest Band of All Time – The Beatles – when creating the Top 500 list. The Beatles are terribly problematic when creating pretty much any sort of popular music Top List that encompasses their phenomenal, improbable run from 1963 to 1970.
All lists are inaccurate or at least disingenuous when it comes to art. Think of the best albums of all time, your absolute favorites in your point of view. Let’s say The Clash London Calling, 1979. If I was honest, I would say my Top 10 list for 1979 would have to include the following as contenders:
But if I was completely honest, at least SIX songs would be from London Calling. What kind of list is that? A “Top 10 Songs of the Year” list that has one band responsible for over half of the songs is boring, featureless, and banal – it paints the author as not a fan of music, but a fan of a particular band. How can one critique such a list? What if an individual did a Top 10 list for the year 1983 and it was dominated by Def Leppard’s Pyromania? I would say “you, bad-haired Sir, are a Def Leppard fan, and I feel sorry for you, and why did I waste my time even glancing at your pathetic list”. London Calling is surely a better album, but an “All London Calling” Top 10 list would be indefensible in much the same way. But if this pyromaniac list maker only included “Photograph” and “Rock of Ages”, but ALSO included REM’s “Radio Free Europe”, something from the Violent Femmes and U2’s War, and maybe some Tears for Fears, then we would have a bonafide LIST – that is to say, we would have a critically defensible list that denotes “thoughtful music fan” (not that a list from 1983 must include these entries...mine would, but some sort of variation is the point). Variety is indeed the spice of life.
(Note: a diehard, true-blue Def Leppard fan is the type of person who would eat the bones of a Tears for Fears fan out of principle. People who adore Def Leppard – sorry I can’t say “adore”, that is unmasculine – people who fucking dig Def Leppard, who think they “rule”, usually aren’t music fans. At least as far as I can tell).
The Beatles were so powerful a musical entity that they created serious trouble for the construction of the Top 500. In a mere seven years, they OWNED the kingdom of music. The talent was irrepressible, their vision unsurpassed. They trail-blazed modern recording and experimentation, they defined mulitple genres and were prescient of many more. They could produce a number one hit that was as complex as a symphony, yet as catchy as nursery rhyme. Too much has been written about them, I will say no more.
The Beatles needed to be handicapped somehow. Initially I instituted a general rule that no band in the list would be given more than five spots total. One exception is Swervedriver – not the greatest band in the world, but my most favorite, a distinction which in itself deserves an essay. Swervedriver was given as many spots as intuitively necessary, which turned out to be nine songs. The Beatles were not given an exception. This was an awful mistake.
In my initial run, I gave the Beatles FOUR songs. FOUR! These four were, as I understood it in my head at the time, my most sacred and personal Beatles songs. They were:
#8. Dear Prudence
#52 Here Comes the Sun
#108 Blackbird
#429 Tomorrow Never Knows.
To all music fans, I apologize for this atrocious decision. My handicap was unjust. I came to this conclusion when I listened to the remastered box set, beginning to end. This remastering job is more than exceptional. It is the greatest sonic restoration in the history of our modern music age. It is like having John Lennon on your lap with Ringo boinking you on the head like a floor tom. Wow. Crazy.
This of course led me to listen to the entire catalogue, beginning to end. I suddenly realized that I indeed needed to handicap the Beatles, but not to this ridiculous extent. I had thrown out too many crucial pieces of the cannon. If I was to be truly honest about how the Beatles should fit into the Top 500, they would probably garner about 80 songs. I’m not kidding – 80 songs would deserve serious consideration and quite easily bump an equivalent number of other artists/songs from the list. As I listened, I was horrified to acknowledge that I dismissed “A Day in the Life” and “Let it Be”. What was I, some kind of complete idiot? AM I ARGUING THAT “Happy Hour” by The Housemartins, is a BETTER SONG THAN “Let it Be”? I should have been fined, perhaps flogged, for such indiscretion.
However, my Top 500 was already created, and so many valuable, worthy songs had already been screened out. What could I afford to include while not sacrificing diversity – all those singularly fabulous songs that made the initial grade? The eventual outcome was nine songs (tying Swervedriver) accorded to the Beatles:
#8. Dear Prudence
#20. Let It Be
#34. A Day in the Life
#54. Here Comes the Sun
#63. Hey Jude
#111. Blackbird
#150. Strawberry Fields Forever.
#212. You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away
#434. Tomorrow Never Knows
While I knew my Top 500 was not a truly honest (i.e., accurate) one, this reconsideration of the Beatles laid the issue bare. When it came down to positioning the new entries, I realized that two of the new ones were higher than three of the initial four. This does not reflect well on my methods – you would assume that initially rejected songs should land in the 400-hundreds range upon reintroduction. Nope. "Let It Be" is so classic, so obviously foundational to the history of popular music, that it deserved "All-Time Top 20" status. "A Day in the Life" was not far behind. "Tomorrow Never Knows" was beaten out by all the new entries, yet it was one of the initial inclusions, which makes little sense. It was fairly devastating to exclude “I Am the Walrus”, “Norwegian Wood” and “Lucy in the Sky”. But it had to be done.
Why? There is a lesson in all this. My methodology (if we can call this subjective process by such a term of rigor) is flawed. But it is only flawed in that it forces diversity. Yes, I know the Beatles catalogue exemplied diversity in its own right, but there is still a need for diversity of other artists and their songs. Because without such diversity you lose beauty and history and the vicissitudes of genre formation and reformation. You would fail to capture the fullness of the landscape under question. This is why I really enjoy special installations of historically important painters at an Art Gallery, yet always drift to the general collection to get some much needed variety. Really, does anyone have party and exclusively play the Beatles all night? You might, if it was a special, Beatles-themed party, but generally not. Why not? Everyone loves the Beatles, right? Yes, they do (and if you don’t like the Beatles, you are strange and problematic creature). But Beatles domination cannot stand, as domination generally cannot.
For my part, I am happy to give up the “I Am the Walrus” so that I can include Stereolab, Ladybug Transistor, and School of Seven Bells. None of these bands are even close to the Beatles’ level influence…but they have some damn fine songs, Top 500-worthy songs. To have them snowed under by the Giganticism of the Beatles would be a shame really.
Nine songs will have to do. I think the Beatles would agree.
Postcript:
My all time Top 20 Beatles songs are as follows:
This notion of handicapping needed to be applied in some fashion to the Greatest Band of All Time – The Beatles – when creating the Top 500 list. The Beatles are terribly problematic when creating pretty much any sort of popular music Top List that encompasses their phenomenal, improbable run from 1963 to 1970.
All lists are inaccurate or at least disingenuous when it comes to art. Think of the best albums of all time, your absolute favorites in your point of view. Let’s say The Clash London Calling, 1979. If I was honest, I would say my Top 10 list for 1979 would have to include the following as contenders:
- London Calling
- Spanish Bombs
- Clampdown
- Rudie Can’t Fail
- Guns of Brixton
- Death or Glory
- Revolution Rock
- The Card Cheat
- Train in Vain
But if I was completely honest, at least SIX songs would be from London Calling. What kind of list is that? A “Top 10 Songs of the Year” list that has one band responsible for over half of the songs is boring, featureless, and banal – it paints the author as not a fan of music, but a fan of a particular band. How can one critique such a list? What if an individual did a Top 10 list for the year 1983 and it was dominated by Def Leppard’s Pyromania? I would say “you, bad-haired Sir, are a Def Leppard fan, and I feel sorry for you, and why did I waste my time even glancing at your pathetic list”. London Calling is surely a better album, but an “All London Calling” Top 10 list would be indefensible in much the same way. But if this pyromaniac list maker only included “Photograph” and “Rock of Ages”, but ALSO included REM’s “Radio Free Europe”, something from the Violent Femmes and U2’s War, and maybe some Tears for Fears, then we would have a bonafide LIST – that is to say, we would have a critically defensible list that denotes “thoughtful music fan” (not that a list from 1983 must include these entries...mine would, but some sort of variation is the point). Variety is indeed the spice of life.
(Note: a diehard, true-blue Def Leppard fan is the type of person who would eat the bones of a Tears for Fears fan out of principle. People who adore Def Leppard – sorry I can’t say “adore”, that is unmasculine – people who fucking dig Def Leppard, who think they “rule”, usually aren’t music fans. At least as far as I can tell).
The Beatles were so powerful a musical entity that they created serious trouble for the construction of the Top 500. In a mere seven years, they OWNED the kingdom of music. The talent was irrepressible, their vision unsurpassed. They trail-blazed modern recording and experimentation, they defined mulitple genres and were prescient of many more. They could produce a number one hit that was as complex as a symphony, yet as catchy as nursery rhyme. Too much has been written about them, I will say no more.
The Beatles needed to be handicapped somehow. Initially I instituted a general rule that no band in the list would be given more than five spots total. One exception is Swervedriver – not the greatest band in the world, but my most favorite, a distinction which in itself deserves an essay. Swervedriver was given as many spots as intuitively necessary, which turned out to be nine songs. The Beatles were not given an exception. This was an awful mistake.
In my initial run, I gave the Beatles FOUR songs. FOUR! These four were, as I understood it in my head at the time, my most sacred and personal Beatles songs. They were:
#8. Dear Prudence
#52 Here Comes the Sun
#108 Blackbird
#429 Tomorrow Never Knows.
To all music fans, I apologize for this atrocious decision. My handicap was unjust. I came to this conclusion when I listened to the remastered box set, beginning to end. This remastering job is more than exceptional. It is the greatest sonic restoration in the history of our modern music age. It is like having John Lennon on your lap with Ringo boinking you on the head like a floor tom. Wow. Crazy.
This of course led me to listen to the entire catalogue, beginning to end. I suddenly realized that I indeed needed to handicap the Beatles, but not to this ridiculous extent. I had thrown out too many crucial pieces of the cannon. If I was to be truly honest about how the Beatles should fit into the Top 500, they would probably garner about 80 songs. I’m not kidding – 80 songs would deserve serious consideration and quite easily bump an equivalent number of other artists/songs from the list. As I listened, I was horrified to acknowledge that I dismissed “A Day in the Life” and “Let it Be”. What was I, some kind of complete idiot? AM I ARGUING THAT “Happy Hour” by The Housemartins, is a BETTER SONG THAN “Let it Be”? I should have been fined, perhaps flogged, for such indiscretion.
However, my Top 500 was already created, and so many valuable, worthy songs had already been screened out. What could I afford to include while not sacrificing diversity – all those singularly fabulous songs that made the initial grade? The eventual outcome was nine songs (tying Swervedriver) accorded to the Beatles:
#8. Dear Prudence
#20. Let It Be
#34. A Day in the Life
#54. Here Comes the Sun
#63. Hey Jude
#111. Blackbird
#150. Strawberry Fields Forever.
#212. You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away
#434. Tomorrow Never Knows
While I knew my Top 500 was not a truly honest (i.e., accurate) one, this reconsideration of the Beatles laid the issue bare. When it came down to positioning the new entries, I realized that two of the new ones were higher than three of the initial four. This does not reflect well on my methods – you would assume that initially rejected songs should land in the 400-hundreds range upon reintroduction. Nope. "Let It Be" is so classic, so obviously foundational to the history of popular music, that it deserved "All-Time Top 20" status. "A Day in the Life" was not far behind. "Tomorrow Never Knows" was beaten out by all the new entries, yet it was one of the initial inclusions, which makes little sense. It was fairly devastating to exclude “I Am the Walrus”, “Norwegian Wood” and “Lucy in the Sky”. But it had to be done.
Why? There is a lesson in all this. My methodology (if we can call this subjective process by such a term of rigor) is flawed. But it is only flawed in that it forces diversity. Yes, I know the Beatles catalogue exemplied diversity in its own right, but there is still a need for diversity of other artists and their songs. Because without such diversity you lose beauty and history and the vicissitudes of genre formation and reformation. You would fail to capture the fullness of the landscape under question. This is why I really enjoy special installations of historically important painters at an Art Gallery, yet always drift to the general collection to get some much needed variety. Really, does anyone have party and exclusively play the Beatles all night? You might, if it was a special, Beatles-themed party, but generally not. Why not? Everyone loves the Beatles, right? Yes, they do (and if you don’t like the Beatles, you are strange and problematic creature). But Beatles domination cannot stand, as domination generally cannot.
For my part, I am happy to give up the “I Am the Walrus” so that I can include Stereolab, Ladybug Transistor, and School of Seven Bells. None of these bands are even close to the Beatles’ level influence…but they have some damn fine songs, Top 500-worthy songs. To have them snowed under by the Giganticism of the Beatles would be a shame really.
Nine songs will have to do. I think the Beatles would agree.
Postcript:
My all time Top 20 Beatles songs are as follows:
- Dear Prudence
- Let It Be
- A Day in the Life
- Here Comes the Sun
- Hey Jude
- Blackbird
- Strawberry Fields Forever
- You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away
- Tomorrow Never Knows
- I Am the Walrus
- Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds
- Norwegian Wood
- It's All Too Much
- We Can Work It Out
- With A Little Help From My Friends
- Yesterday
- All You Need Is Love
- Ticket to Ride
- Two of Us
- Martha My Dear
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Favorite band that maybe I don't like....
Question: What artist has the curious, possibly dubious, distinction of being responsible for the most albums in my collection WITHOUT having any representation whatsoever in the Top 500? And...why?
I first thought about this upon ordering the the song representation by artist and seeing how well this matched my personal intuitions about my "favorite bands". The analysis showed an excellent degree of alignment. "Most Songs" - truly an honor in the Top 500 canon - go to:
I was a little surprised by Pink Floyd because it is very rare that I like a Pink Floyd album beginning to end. The Wall is the exception. Rabid Floyders will cry a river about Darkside, but whatever -- yes it's great, but it never should have received the timeless accolades that it did. I will never understand. Radiohead and Zeppelin seem low to me, and I feel like an injustice has been done to them somehow.
What is also slightly surprising is how mainstream all these bands are (with Swervedriver as the one exception) - provided one is at least slightly aware of indie rock history in addition to regular rock radio. I thought I was a little more obscure than this. There might be a lesson here -- the greatest bands in rock history, from the point of view of the masses, are actually quite amazing, according to me. Who would have guessed?
But then I started looking at my record collection. It was difficult to miss the fact that I own 13 albums, EPs, and singles by Belle and Sebastian, but could only squeeze in one paltry song in the Top 500 (#396 "The Boy with the Arab Strap"). I love Belle and Sebastian! Don't I?
So I looked again and asked the question: From what artist do I own the most records with no Top 500 representation?
I have the answer. I own 6 albums by the second-wave Elephant Six act and fuzzy psych-folkers, Elf Power. Elf Power is like the JK Simmons of my music collection. They are ubiquitous, usually pleasing and at least serviceable in their roles, but nothing to lose your mind over.
You know what it is, though? I saw Elf Power open for the Olivia Tremor Control at the Horseshoe in Toronto and picked up their handmade, limited edition covers Ep Come On from their merch table. When I got home I discovered there was no CD inside. I called their label and they were gruff about it. A band member eventually emailed me and said they would send out a replacement. It never came. I think I have negative feelings for them on a subconscious level for this reason, because they not only fucked me out of a record I paid for, they fucked me out of a rare, limited edition record.
Why did I keep buying Elf Power records? Maybe I was looking for a band to replace the irreplaceable Neutral Milk Hotel. Maybe I thought all E6 bands had that potential. I kept buying the albums and I kept liking them alright. But in retrospect, six is just too much. And I should have seven.
Here. Have a listen to Elf Power. They're great, almost, in an uninspiring sort of way. Although not Top 500 material.
I first thought about this upon ordering the the song representation by artist and seeing how well this matched my personal intuitions about my "favorite bands". The analysis showed an excellent degree of alignment. "Most Songs" - truly an honor in the Top 500 canon - go to:
- Swervedriver - 9 songs
- The Beatles - 9 songs
- The Clash - 7 songs
- REM - 7 songs
- U2 - 6 songs
- Pink Floyd - 6 songs
- Radiohead - 4 songs
- Arcade Fire, Led Zeppelin, Mercury Rev, Nick Drake, Simon & Garfunkel, Smashing Pumpkins, The Smiths - all at 4 songs each.
I was a little surprised by Pink Floyd because it is very rare that I like a Pink Floyd album beginning to end. The Wall is the exception. Rabid Floyders will cry a river about Darkside, but whatever -- yes it's great, but it never should have received the timeless accolades that it did. I will never understand. Radiohead and Zeppelin seem low to me, and I feel like an injustice has been done to them somehow.
What is also slightly surprising is how mainstream all these bands are (with Swervedriver as the one exception) - provided one is at least slightly aware of indie rock history in addition to regular rock radio. I thought I was a little more obscure than this. There might be a lesson here -- the greatest bands in rock history, from the point of view of the masses, are actually quite amazing, according to me. Who would have guessed?
But then I started looking at my record collection. It was difficult to miss the fact that I own 13 albums, EPs, and singles by Belle and Sebastian, but could only squeeze in one paltry song in the Top 500 (#396 "The Boy with the Arab Strap"). I love Belle and Sebastian! Don't I?
So I looked again and asked the question: From what artist do I own the most records with no Top 500 representation?
You know what it is, though? I saw Elf Power open for the Olivia Tremor Control at the Horseshoe in Toronto and picked up their handmade, limited edition covers Ep Come On from their merch table. When I got home I discovered there was no CD inside. I called their label and they were gruff about it. A band member eventually emailed me and said they would send out a replacement. It never came. I think I have negative feelings for them on a subconscious level for this reason, because they not only fucked me out of a record I paid for, they fucked me out of a rare, limited edition record.
Why did I keep buying Elf Power records? Maybe I was looking for a band to replace the irreplaceable Neutral Milk Hotel. Maybe I thought all E6 bands had that potential. I kept buying the albums and I kept liking them alright. But in retrospect, six is just too much. And I should have seven.
Here. Have a listen to Elf Power. They're great, almost, in an uninspiring sort of way. Although not Top 500 material.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
#427. Duel by Swervedriver
Let’s get something straight first. Swervedriver is my all-time favorite band, somehow taking over the 18 year reign of the Clash circa the new millenium. When I inform people of this, I usually get a “huh?” type reaction. “Who? SCREWdriver?” Most people believe I’m listening to some difficult, pummeling thrash outfit AND that I am picking them as my favorite band in order to be an esoteric ass with a perceived detachment from the mainstream (I might actually represent that descriptor at times, but that’s not why Swervedriver is my #1).
Okay, so, to those people who are presumptuous about my motivations, and suggest I am being a holier-than-thou indie snob: Shut it. Swervedriver is my favorite band because they earned the position. They worked their way (slowly and steadily I might add) into the heart of my musical consciousness over a period of ten years and took a firm, unshakeable hold over the musical crown. I suppose if Arcade Fire put out two new albums and a SLEW of EPs and singles with superior b-sides --- well, maybe they could challenge the title in 5 years, provided Swervedriver stay defunct. There are a total of nine Swervedriver songs on the Top 500 list, tying The Beatles and more than The Clash, REM, U2...so you know I’m serious.
So this is about Duel. Duel represented the commercial apex of Swervedriver and some would say the artistic apex as well. This is a matter of debate. Swervedriver fans are the most devoted I have ever seen, and also some of the coolest, nicest people you will ever have the pleasure of knowing. They also tend to disagree on the favorite album question. I would, however, suggest that the majority of Swervedriver fans place Mezcal Head as the “best” Swervedriver album, where it all came together into glorious triumph of swirling, psychedelic 90’s rock. (Incidently, I’m in the clear minority, favoring 99th Dream. This is upsetting to some people).
Duel was the first single off the album and got the band its first serious airplay, at a time when bad 80's metal had mutated into the 90’s grunge that took mainstream radio by storm. Radio didn’t know what the hell to do with all these bands that suddenly appeared on major labels and many dutifully switched formats as the dollar signs appeared. The labels themselves floundered about looking to sign the next big thing – akin to dragging a 10 mile-wide net through the ocean. Swervedriver were on the respectable, higher-end British indie label Creation (housing acts such as My Bloody Valentine, Ride, the Boo Radleys and, later, Oasis), and a subsequent deal with A&M gave them North American distribution, supported by tours with the Smashing Pumpkins and Soundgarden.
I provide all this early 90s context because, in retrospect, Duel stands out above so many of the admittedly great songs that came out in the early 90s. Put Duel up against radio hits of the time, like “Alive” by Pearl Jam, “Nearly Lost You” by Screaming Trees, or anything by Soundgarden or Alice in Chains – there is palpable difference. There is a complicated interplay between the guitars of vocalist Adam Franklin and his right-hand man, Jimmy Hartridge,that moves beyond sounds typical of “grunge”. Maybe its just one more step removed from the hard rock riff-based roots of some bands (like Soundgarden); but also removed from the sonic messiness of the more punk oriented outfits (like Mudhoney). Duel has straight up rock-pop chords, but the chorus, bridge, and outro demonstrate the elegance and attention of a calculated, layered psychedelia – it all ends in the soothing wash of seaside waves, backed by the clever call and repeat of Franklin and Hartridge’s guitar lines. There were some gigantic songs in 1993, but those in the hard rock/grunge family feel very dated to that era, and for the worse. Duel does not feel dated at all – it’s as fresh a sound as it ever was right here in 2010.
Other great tracks: I found it very difficult to narrow down my favorite Swervedriver tracks for this list and only Duel ultimately made the cut from Mezcal head. That said, the whole of Mezcal Head, skillfully produced by Alan Moulder, is highly recommended. “MM Abduction”, “Blowin’ Cool” and the epic “Duress” are stand outs.
Next up: Talk about a study in contrasts. Next up is #123. “Carefree Highway” by Canadian folk troubadour, Gordon Lightfoot.
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