from the LP Around the World in a Day, Paisley Park Records, 1985
The song that took berets from second-hand stores to the racks at Macys (remember that shit?!), this smoking hot number captured my imagination and, if truth be told, my heart from the very first time I watched the weird music video for it---that psychedelic sky blue pantsuit with clouds across it that he was rocking was fucking incredible. It’s the string section that probably hooked me so hard, and those cellos still command my attention whenever this song is playing, surely evidence of his fascination with the Beatles at that time. The whole thing sounds a bit coy coming from Prince, the guy who had brought us determinedly lewd tracks like “Sister”, “Soft & Wet” & “Little Red Corvette” before, and I think that might be exactly what works for him here---it’s kind of a sweet song, considering the source; granted, relative to the rest of the pop music community, lyrics like “…she-e-e-e wasn’t too bright, but I could tell when she kissed me, she knew how to get her kicks…” aren’t exactly milquetoast.
from the LP From the Ashes of Electric Elves, Jackpine Social Club Records, 2003
First week back of the new semester, and my head is a spinnin’ like always… students often fail to realize that our brains are in the clouds just as much as theirs are these first few days back after the break, it’s true. Right now it is snowing like a motherfucker outside: low visibility, yard disappearing into a blanket of snowy ash, kashing bowls at the computer, you know the deal… Yes, I fully realize that the vibe of this song is pertaining to the sky in Spring, but it’s so wet beyond the window right now, and the snow is falling at the perfect velocity, so it just feels right. Oranger hails from the Bay Area, and the vibe of that city has definitely imprinted itself onto their brand of whimsical psych-tinged indie rock, pulling off reasonably difficult 3-part harmonies with seeming ease, adding depth to a sound that could easily sound flimsy or shambling in the wrong hands; instead, they successfully whisk the listener away with them, drifting along blithely into a kaleidoscopic swirl of guitars & keys…Oranger indeed, dig it!
from the LP When the Red King Comes, Elephant Six Recording Co, 1997
“It seems like I'm in danger, distracted by all that I see, and even the nodding strangers can tell what is happening to me; well, the boats we ride have been leaking lately, and the tunnel of frozen time has been increasing greatly…” Warbling along in a gauzy psychedelic haze made up of acoustic guitar, a xylophone & some heavily processed (damaged) effects, this song fully hits the mark for me: a perfect combination of existential, near quasi-paranoid, lyrics and bittersweet minor chord melodies, emerging like the taciturn parable of some ‘luded hermit prophet. Coming along in the second wave of Elephant Six crews, Athens’ own Elf Power always stood out from the pack for me, and though they still relied heavily upon the shared neo-psych sensibilities of that entire collective, their songs always seemed a bit more ethereal and spacey than their peers’ more fey endeavors; that said, most of the heavyweights from that scene had cameos on this LP, including Jeff Magnum (that’s him sitting in on guitar and tossing off one of his signature lilting harmonies in response to the lyric, “…then, to my friends, I'll be gone, and they'll gather and put me away; I hope Jeff will sing me a song, and everyone else will play…”). Anyone who’s gone through rough patches in life for long enough to make trouble your friend knows that always-sinking feeling which often follows you onto a better path, waiting for the other boot to fall, ‘cause it always did, “…there’s a knot in my throat, and the arrow files close, closer all the time…”
from the LP No Más, Luaka Bop Records, 2010
Yessssssss… This is the kind of musical pastiche that gives one hope for the future, full of brawny breaks & swirling organ, fuzzy flanged-out guitars playing alongside one determined-ass bassline, everything rolling together flawlessly like those old school green-leaf blunts. Yes, you are listening to samples and loops galore, but not clipped from other sources like duo Javelin become famous for after dropping their minty fresh Jamz & Jemz mixtape--- nope, on this LP they played all the music you hear being sampled themselves, which has a rather twisted ironic beauty to it, don’t you think? Any reviewer that doesn’t catch the heady soulful fusion that’s happening here should find themselves a new job; it’s telling that David Byrne’s label Luaka Bop snatched them up quickly. The perfect soundtrack for a hazy late summers day, look out for the mind-melting guitar solo that snarls to life around 1:40 into the track, it may just push you one toke over the line, so to speak (don’t say I didn’t warn ya)…
from the LP Take It From the Man, BOMP! Records, 1996
Assembling eight musicians on stage is one thing, but managing to sound harmonious and relatively clean while all eight people are rocking out is just downright impressive, especially given the fact that four of them were playing guitars---dude, they have figured out the formula. Thankfully, Joel Gion and Matt Hollywood are part of the band again, front & center through the whole show, so the setlist was rather heavy on their old stuff like this song, a personal favorite of mine; any longtime fan of the BJM knows that Joel is, in fact, the soul of the band, and he was in top form last night, devastatingly wasted (I’m guessing coke because he looked like he was struggling with a nasty drip for the first five minutes or so on stage, and he was smoking cigarettes as if they were joints, functionally ashing them with the his tambourine playing) & and full of those faraway blasé looks. The music was as good as it’s ever been, majestically druggy and bombastic, chicken soup for stoned post-modern wandering souls… Brian Jones would be proud! You never know when Anton is gonna flip his shit and fire the whole band again, so I’d recommend seeing them on this tour if you get the chance, you won’t be disappointed.
from the LP Innerspeaker, Modular Recordings, 2010
Picking the first post which would fall into this new decade of ours became an inordinately easy decision upon my initiation unto the new album from Aussie psych rockers Tame Impala---in my stoned opinion, these kids (in their early 20s) are bringing the greatest vibe around, heady far beyond their years. Their earlier EP displayed an astute sense of history cut with meticulous attention given to ambiance, though I surely didn’t expect an album that was solid front to cover, but that’s exactly what these remarkable blokes have given us here. They wear their influences on their sleeves (Todd Rundgren, krautrock, Jefferson Airplane, the Byrds, maybe Camel…), yet the music comes off sounding amazingly fresh---albeit not “new” mind you, as their consideration for recreating a vintage feel makes Elephant Six bands sound like half-assed charlatans; in fact, the only other crew I can think of that comes this close is Dungen. I don’t know what’s got into the water supply down under lately (re: Wolfmother & these guys, plus chill wave acts Cut Copy & Knightlife), but it’s fuckin’ working for me mates!!
from the 7” EP California Demise, Elephant Six Records, 1994
Doused in patchouli with lit joints & sticks of incense gripped firmly in their hands, the Elephant Six Recoding Company took themselves only slightly less seriously than the primordial psych rockers of yore which they so ably conjured---they weren’t here to spread the utopic message of the world’s transformation via LSD, but they sure as hell weren’t trying to be purely ironic either. Olivia Tremor Control (OTC), along with the Apples in Stereo, Elf Power, Of Montreal and OTC drummer Jeff Magnum’s band Neutral Milk Hotel, were here to spread the good news that psych rock didn’t have to die with the ideals of those who initially enjoyed it, and I’ll be damned if they don’t make a thoroughly convincing case for that idea here; this was OTC’s first release, and only the second for the Denver-based label, which was soon to relocate down south to Athens, Georgia. Blurry distortion, melancholic melodies, & a general sense of looseness combine well here, with the focus being put squarely on the music (don’t even bother seeking out the dippy lyrics because the manner in which they are sung is far more relevant, thus echoing their psychedelic forefathers as well).
from the LP Out My Window, Stones Throw Records, 2008
I’m so stoked about the approaching spring, I can’t even lie dude, especially after a couple of days in a row where it almost hit sixty degrees; I’m already rocking sandals in the 50s, any excuse to wear less clothing! The gang over at Stones Throw sure didn’t waste any time snapping up this Canadian beats maestro, formerly known merely as that guy who sings on Manitoba/Caribou songs; this album, Koushik’s first official full-length, leaves no doubt at all as to his own proficient abilities behind the boards (as well as on the mic). The picture he chose for this album cover was a wise choice, as armies of tambourines shake madly in validation of the groove here, full brass & squishy effects giving one the impression of a parade for bubbles, of bubble, by bubbles, and about bubbles---oh, and getting stoned in the sun, that too.
from the LP In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, Merge Records, 1998
Promptly losing your shit & proceeding to have yourself locked up in an institution after finishing the sessions for your latest record is certainly one way to make sure your album gets noticed---not saying that Jeff Magnum’s nervous breakdown was a premeditated marketing ploy, I’m not quite that cynical, but he surely knew it wasn’t going to hurt his band’s (Neutral Milk Hotel) career the way spending time inside a mental hospital might damage the reputation of an individual not regarded as an “artist”. People drool over this album like it was fashioned from the tears of God or something, where for me it’s a rather uneven affair, overwrought in many places, and tightly wound to say the least. I have to concede, though, that on a handful of songs his mastery of both language & melancholia is undeniable, weaving stripped-down timeless tales that mask their impact inside clouds of sing-song childlike sincerity, “…when you were young you were the king of carrot flowers, and how you built a tower tumbling through the trees, in holy rattlesnakes that fell all around your feet…and your mom would stick a fork right into daddy's shoulder, and dad would throw the garbage all across the floor, as we would lay and learn what each other's bodies were for…and your mom would drink until she was no longer speaking, and dad would dream of all the different ways to die, each one a little more than he could dare to try…” And that emotive accordion, always a nice touch!
from the 7” single, Creation Records, 1984
Isn’t it funny how, when we’re kids, it seems as if all the urges & yearnings inside our hormone soaked souls can only be fulfilled in the darkest of night, something so perfectly invigorating about those post-sunset hours it almost seems scripted, looking back now with older eyes. At some point in the game we lose our ability to sleep-in easily (not everyone, but many of us…sadly, I am among the sun risers now), and funny thing about that, because around the same time that happens, you suddenly start getting tired at the most preposterously early of times---so early that many of the establishments you once frequented aren’t even open before your head hits the pillow. Given these compounding circumstances, the late morning into afternoon has suddenly become the zenith for most of my free (i.e. not at work) days; subsequently, on days I work, there is no fucking zenith, like I have energy for zenith-ness when I have to be at work by 8:00 the next morning, please. As luck would have it, consuming cannabis & cocktails in the midday sun is bloody brilliant!!! Revolving Paint Dream was a side project for Andy Innes, of Primal Scream fame, and his girlfriend Christie Wanless, but this scrumptiously creepy single (with a sound that’s heavily indebted to the Teardrop Explodes me thinks) actually dropped before the Scream ever had a record out.
from the 7” single, Zoo Records, 1979
I stopped apologizing for my unabashed love of television a long time ago, and knobs who walk around with a whole fucking script about its evils just make me laugh---yes, we all know that there is plenty of out-and-out shit plastered across many channels, but there is this incredible thing called a remote control which allows you to choose your own adventure, as it were; I actually believe that some of these idiots think if you watch TV at all, than you must indeed watch all of it. There is plenty of wholesome and educational programming to be found on the boob tube: PBS, Discovery Channels, The Science Channel, BBC World News, National Geographic Channel, Family Guy, The Simpsons…you know, sources of vital & imperative information. Not sure if Julian Cope & his band the Teardrop Explodes were coming down hard on television altogether or just the 70s medical drama series Rafferty, which he’s comparing here to sleeping gas; either way, I must agree on one point about the teley, “…it’s so ethereal …”
from the LP Emergency Third Rail Power Trip, Zippo Records, 1984
Making music that harkened backwards about fifteen years during a decade that worshipped all things new and futuristic was sure to keep a band from large scale success; now, having the luxury of 25 years worth of hindsight, it’s clear to me that had these guys released this LP a decade later, they probably would have been signed to Elephant 6 records and become celebrated indie darlings---as it was, however, they released this incredible album to little acclaim, lost their lead guitarist & songwriter David Roback (the same dude who went on to back & write for Mazzy Star in the ‘90s), and broke up after dropping just one more studio album. Everything about this song simply shimmers: the vocal harmonies, the dual guitars, taught bassline & crisp drumming, trusty tambourine. This track, and much of the album, easily stands alongside The Byrds’ more psychedelic stuff, yet found itself too late for the original party, and too soon for the full-fledged revival. Not too mention, one of the most hauntingly beautiful album covers of the whole decade!
from the LP Inner Marshland, Woronzow Records, 1987
It’s only in exceedingly rare situations that you hear the phrase “Hendrix- like” come out of my mouth, as most guitarists who make an attempt at channeling his mojo fall embarrassingly short, either unable to dominate the tsunami of feedback that’s required or simply left grasping after the elusive & enigmatic nature of Hendrix’s style; that being said, guitarist Nick Saloman, who by all measures is the Bevis Frond, does such a startlingly truthful & accurate representation of the master’s handiwork here, so deftly inspired that, for a moment, you can almost feel Jimi’s presence. There are several movements within this track: 1) muffled guitar jamming to start things off, giving you a small taste of what will follow, 2) a weird segue of echoed effects and bizarre spoken-word, 3) layered vocals, all handled by Saloman, lifting us higher into the ether, until finally, at around 4 minutes in, everything explodes and the searing guitar solo which ensues would stop a fucking wooly mammoth in its tracks! What’s even more incredible is that he laid down this entire album on crappy 8-track home recording equipment, in his friggin’ basement, just getting high & jamming---guitar players everywhere weep with envy…
from the LP Arts and Crafts, Memphis Industries Records, 2006
Don’t be fooled by the seeming simplicity of this lovely little number, as there are dazzling subtleties buried deep within the basic chord progressions and, to put it bluntly, it ain’t easy to compose a song this tight and perfect; what makes this an even greater accomplishment is the fact that it’s all the work of one person, Steve Webster, formerly of indie duo Ft. Lauderdale. While much of his output (under numerous monikers) feels rooted in the late ‘70s or ‘80s, this song comes off much more like an ode to the Beatles’ psychedelic period, and I mean that in the best possible way. On an admittedly more cynical level, this track is right out of modern songwriting 101: simple melody, ABCB rhyming scheme, overtly descriptive (and easy to follow) storytelling, quirky bridges, and a fading coda. I don’t point this out with judgment in mind; rather, I wish more artists would go back to the basics like this, because if one takes the time to do it correctly, you can wind up crafting honey as sweet as the raw, unfiltered wonderfulness in my kitchen cupboard!
from the LP Cobra & Phases Group Play Voltage in the Milky Night, Duophonic Records, 1999
Stereolab are one of those bands that has developed a particular sound which is so immediately identifiable as their own, it could almost be a genre in and of itself; taking from the worlds of jazzy lounge tunes, 60s pop and psych, krautrock, tropicalia & library music (minimal electronic-based stuff from early 80s France), they have crafted a distinctive brew which stands as one of the most imaginative & inspired discographies of the last 20 years, in my humble opinion. The mix of brass instrumentation, jazzy drumming and spacey electronic effects lifts you right out of this atmosphere and into the deep reaches of space where this collective must surely hail from (actually, they’re from London). Although the music easily stands on its own, Stereolab commonly gives you the added bonus of some esoteric, often sociologically themed, lyrics “…suffer you little children, remain passive and fearful, suffer don't grow out of it…it’s our lives we’ll learn to control, we who're young and beautiful, respond with revolution, when we hear the word ‘suffering’…”
from the LP Gorgeous Johnny, Jagjaguwar Records, 2009
When I heard that the Skygreen Leopards had essentially given in and released a pop album (well, as close to “pop” as you’re gonna get coming from anyone signed to Jagjaguwar Records), it initially bummed me out; this folksy duo of Donovan Quinn and Glenn Donaldson have become known for delicately thin folk arrangements which walk up to pop-music’s ledge but never fully indulge the listener. After buying this album however, I must say, my primary reaction was dead wrong! This album absolutely SHINES, and though some purists will likely be miffed by this more-mainstream turn of events, I think the Leopards are far better for going there; a full 7 albums into their career, these guys might just be getting started…
from the LP All Young in the Soul, Darla Records, 1998
Neo-psych-rockers from Philly, they do what they do really well, and give the entire Elephant 6 camp a run for their money in the process.
from the LP …And Don’t the Kids Just Love It, Rough Trade Records, 1980
Materializing out of the later-day punk scene in England, Dan Treacy and his schoolmate Ed Ball managed to quietly and awkwardly help develop what would broadly become known as indie rock (more specifically, the entire jangle-pop-c86-brigade of indie rock) under the name Television Personalities. Their lysergically skewed brand of fast & fey rock music didn’t sound like much else going on at the time, gaining them both a dyed-in-the-wool fanbase and consistent name-dropping as being a major influence from the indie elite which were to follow in their footsteps. Treacy’s achingly stereotypical twee-British singing and his biting wit are infamous, and they certainly permeate this number about humanity’s fixation upon materialism and success, “…in the past I always tried, but I never got amongst the glittering prizes; I put it down to confidence, or something trendy, like an emotional complex…”
from the LP A Taste of Pink, Own Up Records, 1982
Save for the expensive-sounding drum set, this track and a large portion of the Prisoners’ output could, rather convincingly, just as soon be culled from any number of ‘60s garage rock compilations; at the time of its release, their sound was the strict antithesis to the hordes of synthesizer-laden new wave groups gigging around them, and they would have sounded more at home across the pond in California within the paisley underground scene. These young lads came together in Chatham, Kent, and their vibe is largely defined by Jamie Taylor’s ever-present Hammond organ, almost sounding like a Farfisa in some songs; ahead of their time, the Prisoners’ retro vibe influenced many c86 and brit-pop bands later in the decade. Big props for the lewd album title, it always makes me chuckle.
