Vikings & Beekeepers

 

50. The Evens Get Evens (2006)

Let’s just face it, Fugazi aren’t getting back together. It sucks, I know, but the sooner we can accept that sad fact, the sooner we can open up to The Evens, Ian Mackaye’s pared down post-Fugazi venture along with Warmers’ drummer Amy Farina. Fugazi were always revered for their economic approach to music and performance, but The Evens make Fugazi look positively indulgent. With Mackaye on baritone guitar (essentially a two-in-one for bass and guitar) and Farina on drums, The Evens created a model for where the overhead couldn’t possibly be any lower for a hard-rocking band. Sure, there are few sonic sacrifices that come with a more intimate and economic model - Farina’s drumming is skittery where Brendan Canty’s was bold and pronounced and Mackaye’s guitar and voice don’t roar like they once did - but The Evens are no less powerful. In fact, Get Evens may be Mackaye’s most seething record since he was X-ing his wrists. Get Evens is fiercely politically and pointed, far more overtly than anything Fugazi did. True, songs like “Everybody Knows” and “Dinner With The President” are as subtle as a brick to the face (they might as well be titled “George W. Bush Is A Big, Stinky Turd, Parts I and II”), but they’re effective and it’s a ton of fun to sing “You’re fiiiiiiiiiirrrred!” followed by “Let the door hit you on the ass.” The quieter model also allows for some tremendous harmonies between the two (especially on the moody “All You Find You Keep”) and some winsomely tender moments for the normally bulldoggish Mackaye (“Cache Is Empty”). So yes, it’s not Fugazi – nothing is. But even a reserved Mackaye is not a neutered Mackaye. The Evens are more than a consolation prize. Farina and Mackaye make an enchanting pair. As Farina puts it at the onset of the album: “It’s just electricity.”

“Cache Is Empty”  

 

49. Enon High Society (2002)

Brainiac’s Timmy Taylor was one the greatest, most deranged frontmen of all time. I never got to see Brainiac live, but judging from what the band put to tape, you can just tell that he was working at a different level of crazy awesomeness/awesome craziness. Back in Brainiac’s heyday, John Schmersal was just the guitar player, another Brainiac member who wasn’t Timmy Taylor. After Timmy Taylor tragically died in a car accident in 1997, it seemed that it would be the last we heard from the Brainiac camp.

Turns out that Brainiac had been hording their very own Dave Grohl in John Schmersal, an overlooked songwriter with a strong penchant for writing big time modern rock songs with even bigger hooks. A few years after Brainiac’s untimely demise, Schmersal moved on with Enon. Joined by former Blonde Redhead member Toko Yasuda, the group’s second album, High Society, is a glossy, polychromatic playground of big synths, big guitars and great songs. I remember writing a glowing review of this album for my college paper around the time of this album’s release. The review sat next to another glowing review for Beck’s Sea Change (aka Two Great Gordon Lightfoot Songs And A Bunch Of Other Really Boring Ones). It was ironic because I still see High Society as the best album Beck never made (certainly better than the overrated Sea Change), as Schmersal and company play with their music like it’s Play-Do, reshaping it and re-molding it with each new song. “Old Domination” blasts off like a Robert Pollard mic swing, “Sold!” filters “Jessie’s Girl” through Elvis Costello’s “Beyond Belief,” “Pleasure And Privelige” throws some meat on the early-00s dance punk trend, “Native Numb” honors Schmersal’s old Brainiac leader and “Leave It To Rust” out-Becks Beck. There are 10 more tracks that projectile to the back of the room in this fashion. Enon have maintained a high quality, albeit underappreciated, level of work in the years following, but High Society remains their best work and one of the must vibrant and varied rock albums of the decade.

“Sold!”  

 

48. The Notwist Neon Golden (2002)

I’ve always been a rock guy. I know I’m fairly well-rounded by and large when it comes to my musical taste, but my greatest love has always been a big guitar sound. Electronic music was really a tough sell for me when I was younger (and it’s still a tough sell to this day). My sister used to listen to a lot of electronica in the 90s – Daft Punk, The Prodigy, Chemical Brothers – and I thought it was all shite. If ever a band was going to win me over, they were going to have to meet me halfway. It took a onetime German metal band to do exactly that. Neon Golden was the first album that said to me, “Don’t worry, it’s going to be OK, these electronic beats are here to support actual songs.” Like the Postal Service (who got huge with Give Up just a year later), the Notwist play emotional, tender-hearted songs that are merely backdropped by electronic beats. It’s not like the band sold their guitars and bought keyboards and drum machines, these are normal indie rock songs. In fact, they’re uniformly gripping indie rock songs. While getting sucked in to the electronic flourishes of Neon Golden seemed like a tremendous hurdle at the time, looking back, the album seems kind of quaint. It’s really hardly any different from any other sentimental indie album, except that it’s entirely excellent. It just goes to show how my far my tastes have changed as a music fun and how much of a role Neon Golden had in seeing to it that my musical tastes mature and transform.

“One With The Freaks”  

 

47. The Exploding Hearts Guitar Romantic (2003)

The Exploding Hearts were just a bunch of punk kids. They weren’t trying to be high-minded or particularly important. They just wanted to dress cool, play some simple, super hooky rock songs and probably get laid along the way. The cover of their one and only album, Guitar Romantic, is draped in yellow and pink and features pictures of the whole band looking like snotty, self-aware New York ’77 punks. The album’s production is so in the red it makes Raw Power sound like Aja. The song topics basically consist of talking about girls and sniffing glue. The album’s fabulous.

Unfortunately, not long after the Exploding Hearts released Guitar Romantic, three of the four band members died in a tragic van accident while the band was on tour. The fact that this tragedy happened and cut short such a promising career doesn’t give Guitar Romantic any sentimentality points. The album was great when the band was still around and it remains great to this day. The awful events associated with this album are just a reminder of how important it is to cherish those youthful moments where we wanted to play dress-up, emulate our favorite rock bands and sing about the stupid, trivial things that mattered most at the time. Guitar Romantic will forever be frozen in time as a document of the perfection of youthful indiscretions.

“I’m A Pretender”  

 

46. Ghostface Killah The Pretty Toney Album (2004)

Fishscale’s biggest weakness occurs during its Rocky-themed banger “The Champ” when the Mickey character, in his attempt to get Ghostface pumped, screams “You ain’t been hungry since Supreme Clientele.” What’s the matter Mickey, did you sleep on The Pretty Toney Album too?

Although not the spoon-bending mindfuck of Ghostface’s most popular album, Supreme Clientele, The Pretty Toney Album is an exceedingly worthwhile album that catches Ghost trading in RZA’s sparse, cold production and free association raps for old soul records and a barely contained sensitive side. Sure, Ghost is still a wild-eyed, elastic-brained rhymeslinger with a penchant for urgent and hilarious short stories, but its on Pretty Toney that we discover how adroitly Ghost pairs with warm, soulful production. “Save Me Dear,” “Holla,” “Be This Way” and the gospel-tinged “Love” all see Ghostface exploring his softer side, effectively emoting and being legitimately vulnerable. Sure, there are still ridiculous crime bangers like “Beat The Clock,” “Metal Lungies” and the amazing “Run,” not to mention the hilariously icky sex anthem “Tush,” but Pretty Toney proves that there is no underestimating Ghostface. The man simply has way too many tricks up his sleeve.

“Holla”  

 

45. The Books Lemon Of Pink (2003) 

It’s hard to describe the music The Books’ Nick Zammuto and Paul de Jong make and the way it emotionally resonates with the listener. Their rustic acoustic instrumentals point to artists like John Fahey, but that sound’s integration with found sounds and conversation snippets has no father. It’s truly its own thing. You can point to many of the Books’ IDM contemporaries like the Notwist, but even the Notwist are dabbling in pretty basic pop structures. The Books tap into an emotional realm that is hard to pinpoint. There are no lyrics and much of the dialogue samples are of a mundane nature, but there’s a lulling, minimalist warmth to everything. Even as the sound splices and glitches, there is humanity to be found on The Lemon Of Pink, a universal truth that reveals itself through sound and atmosphere and is almost never explicitly stated. It’s simply lovely.

“Take Time”  

 

44. Modest Mouse The Moon & Antarctica (2000)

Ten years later and I’m still chewing on The Moon & Antarctica, trying to make sense of Modest Mouse’s dense and dreamlike masterpiece. Modest Mouse were odd candidates for the major label jump. Their 1997 album, The Lonesome Crowded West, might as well have been called The Lonesome Crowded Mess, a long, frustrating (but ultimately wonderful) road record for those looking to go the Fear & Loathing route. Moon & Antarctica hardly smoothes out any of these rough edges (2004’s Good news For People Who Love Bad News is the album that does that). In fact, Moon & Antarctica manages to obfuscate things even more, with less than lucid deep-sea tones, singer Isaac Brock’s irreligious and lispy rants and heaps and heaps of backwards instrumentation. Honestly, hardly a track goes by without that sweeping/wooshing noise that comes with a backward guitar or sound effect (“Gravity Ride Everything” is the most prime example with it’s doddering backwards drumbeat). And while there may be a pair of potential crossover moments here (namely “3rd Planet” and “Paper Thin Walls”), the album as a whole remains a jumbled, lonely and woozy trip into the unconscious. No one in indie rock has taken such a strange, intoxicating trip since. That’s a damn shame.

“Paper Thin Walls”  

 

43. Battles Mirrored (2007)

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I saw Battles perform live in 2008. I was wary because Battles aren’t a vocals band. Sure, they use vocal tricks like pitch shifters and stuff, but there’s nothing like actual discernable lyrics and melodies to be found on Mirrored. I assumed I would get bored of the instrumental barrage.

I’ll never underestimate these guys again. When I say they brought it live, I mean they fuckin’ BROUGHT IT! I was a fan of Mirrored before the show, but afterwards I became a fan of the highest order. When returning to the album after the show, I was amazed at how hard the album hit, how it made my heart rate spike (listen to this shit at the gym, you’ll get ripped). I was amazed by how the band totally BRINGS IT on record. I’m still amazed. Like a group of mad scientists with octopus arms, Battles are a band with serious technical skills. But Battles aren’t just some indie Dragonforce (although, now that I think of it…can someone get on that right now?); they’re a band of incredible players that know how to craft a good, booty-shaking song using non-traditional means. Mirrored is supposed to be the sound of the future, but we all know there’s no way the future could possibly live up to Mirrored.

“Leyendecker”  

 

42. Mclusky Do Dallas (2002)

At the onset of Do Dallas ballad, “Fuck This Band,” singer Andy Falkous sings “Fuck this band / and their demon said.” Later, on “To Hell With Good Intentions,” the breakout track from the band’s hair-raising sophomore effort, Falkous proclaims “Our band is better than your band / We’ve got more songs than a song convention.” Goes to show how much they think of your band.

Welsh trio Mclusky had been around for long enough to release one album (the promising, but mostly middling My Pain And Sadness Is More Sad And Painful Than Yours), but it wasn’t until they met up with their spiritual father, Steve Albini, that things really started to click. Mclusky’s sound runs in a similar vein to a lot of bands Albini’s influence had touched – the Pixies, the Jesus Lizard and of course Big Black – so the marriage between the two was a match made in heaven. Mclusky were always a whip-smart band that could pen tight and hilarious blitzkriegs at the drop of the hat, but under Albini’s production, they shot to the next level. Mclusky are still great players. But on Do Dallas, the songs take on a maniacal violent tone. “Lightsabre Cocksucking Blues” storms out of the gate, with Falkous literally spitting all over the mic with his filthy and laughable limericks (“Nicotine stained on account of her crutch and I’m aching from fucking too much!”), “Collagen Rock” aggressively takes the piss out fashion-first bands who have everything but credibility (“One of those bands got fake tits”) and “Alan Is A Cowboy Killer” stirs up the most violent round since Napalm Death covered “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” (OK, they didn’t, but they should have). Mclusky are a sinister group of snarky assholes, and under Albini’s tutelage, that attitude only escalated. “Fuck this band / and their foolish pride / which lets them think / they can get away with this,” concludes Falkous on “Fuck This Band.” With an album as blazingly riotous as Do Dallas, Mclusky get away with it every time.

“To Hell With Good Intentions”  

 

41. Cam’Ron Purple Haze (2004) 

Cam’Ron loves words. He’s totally out of his mind and his songs are occasionally crazily offensive (the misogyny here is off the charts), but his wordplay is just too good to overlook. Before Killa Cam totally went off the rails with some suspect releases, an awful movie, misguided beefs and the dissolution of his Dip Set crew, he released Purple Haze, perhaps the most focused collection of insane wordplay ever put to tape. Cam turns a standard boast into a work of art with lines like “So I parked in a tow-away zone, chrome / I don’t care, that car a throwaway, homes.” But Cam’s not above spitting absolute nonsense like “Wreckx-N-Effect, zoom zoom, poon poon/ Since the movie Cocoon, had the Uzi platoon.” So yeah, I don’t always know what’s going on in Cam’s head, but it’s a blast to listen to. Rapping over samples like “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” (“Girls”), the theme to Hill Street Blues, (“Harlem Streets”) and a sped-up take on Smokey Robinson’s “Merry-Go-Round” (“Soap Opera”), Cam’Ron sounds up to the task of even the most challenging production. And the skits work too, making for the best kind of hip-hop album: one that offends and delights in equal measure; one that amazes in confounds; one that maintains the listener’s interest for all 24 tracks. On Purple Haze Cam proves that he is one of the weirdest, most underrated rappers in the game. Things have been iffy in the year’s following, but Purple Haze captures one of the most bizarre and free associative rappers at the top of his game. Cam can rap circles and Purple Haze remains his most dizzying effort.

“Killa Cam”  

This entry was posted on Monday, June 28th, 2010 at 10:11 am and is filed under News. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.