At Your Service

Quick review of the new Morphine rarities disc that will appear in the November issue of The Noise....

When Morphine bassist /frontman Mark Sandman died in the summer of 1999, the iconoclastic band's promising run was cut fatally short. The past decade has left fans with a lot of questions as to what could have, should have, would have happened to Beantown's low rock heroes with few answers, save for a posthumous greatest hits collection and Dana Colley's recent resurgence in A.K.A.C.O.D. But as Sandman croons on the trio's loaded new rarities retrospective At Your Service, "Have Patience. Everything will be alright."
It's a promise the album delivers on fully. Twelve years since the band's last full length, At Your Service pulls together 35 tracks of b-sides, alternate takes and live cuts in an attempt to fill the void left by the band's breakup. Fortunately the band rolled a lot of tape during its tenure, and much of the two disc set stands alongside the band's best work. Tracks like "Women R Dogs" and "Come Over" will feel achingly familiar, basking in the band's signature molasses-like blues sound, while the live cuts the make up much of the second disc are a cut above the Bootleg: Detroit release. As a rarities set it's not the most consistent listen, but fans who have long been jonesing for a fix will find it pretty refreshing (Ryan Bray).

Jawbox reuniting? On Jimmy Fallon?

Um, yup. According to numerous credible news outlets including the AV Club, Punknews.org and Aversion, DC post-punk heroes Jawbox will be reuniting for a one off performance on Late Night without Conan O'Brien...um, I mean Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. The performance, slated for Fallon's Dec. 8 episode, comes on the heels of Dischord's reissue of the band's 1994 disc "For Your Own Special Sweetheart," tentatively set to hit shelves Nov. 24.
But don't get your hopes up too much. Frontman J. Robbins quickly shot down talks of an extended reunion. But hey, at least we have a halfway legitimate excuse for watching Fallon's show.

Bob Mould @ The Paradise (Oct. 7, 2009)

At 49, Bob Mould has a lot to look back on.
2009 marks the shifty rock vet’s 30 year anniversary, beginning with his seminal work fronting alt-punk legends Husker Du and onward to commercial success with Sugar and a solid solo resume. So when he embarked on his current three week jaunt through the states earlier this fall, maybe the hardest thing for Mould in prepping for the tour was figuring out where to start.
The catalogue runs deep, but the newly assembled Bob Mould Band hit a near pitch perfect balance Wednesday night at the Paradise, weaving in and out of songs new and old and leaving no stretch of Mould’s stellar career untouched.
A power trio rounded out nicely by bassist Jason Narducy and Superchunk drummer Jon Wurster, the band blasted through a good 20 songs over the course of its 90-plus minute set, with Mould barely coming up for air save for the occassional nod and “Thanks.” He may be one of modern rock’s most prized elder statesmen, but Mould’s still not keen on resting on his cred, as he slashed and lumbered his way about the stage with vitriolic gusto. The man’s still got it, and a lot of it.
Things kicked off with the early Husker favorite “Something I Learned Today,” providing fans with the first of what would be many Husker bones Mould would throw the crowd. A few Sugar tunes followed, which segued into solo cuts from “Workbook” and his most recent effort “Life and Times,” the title track of which proved that the singer’s angsty alt-pop leanings haven’t staled at all over time.
But the detours toward new material were few and brief, as the band opted instead to dip into the vaults for the crowd favorites. The Huskers were well represented through a slew of cuts off of “New Day Rising” (“Celebrated Summer,” “I Apologize,” “Folklore”), Sugar’s “If I Can’t Change Your Mind” and “A Good Idea” made appearances and Mould’s early solo material was well represented thanks to “See a Little Light.” But maybe the most poignant moment came when the band put out the fire long enough to play some acoustic songs, as “Hardly Getting Over It” may well have been the night’s finest moment.
Balder and greyer he may be, but Wednesday’s show proved that Bob’s still Bob, and for fans young and old that proved easy enough to take.

For anyone who wants some real indie rock....

Hey again. It's been a while (I feel like I say that a lot). But big news...
Pavement, yes THE Pavement, is reuniting for a series of benefit shows in New York's Central Park in September 2010, tickets for which sold out immediately upon going on presale earlier this week (this a full year in advance of the shows). You think people are a little excited about the reunion?
Well they fucking should be. Much like the Beatles in the 60s or U2 in the 80s, Pavement, albeit in a far more hush and subdued fashion, have become poster children of the 90s alternative/indie/punk rock boom alongside Nirvana and Pearl Jam. No they didn't have the hits their 90s-era counterparts did (hell, they were too busy slandering them in song, check out "Range Life"), and at points they were about as accessible as a brick wall, but what the band had over all of the alternative crop was spirit. Pavement made music that you knew only these five guys could play. It was lo-fi and lumbering, hazy and often times discordant in a perfectly ramshackle rock n roll way. But it was also, more often than not, great. Stephen Malkmus' lyrics were equally free associative and strikingly poignant and heartfelt, and the music locked right in. They were a beautiful mess.
And now they're back, and according to guitarist/co-founder Scott "Spiral Stairs" Kannenberg, more shows could be on the horizon. In an interview with Rolling Stone, he said the idea of a reunion, as improbable as it sounded to most fans, was something that had been discussed amongst the band members for years. Now they're looking ahead to the Central Park shows and are testing the waters of next summer's festival circuit, namely Coachella.
Now there's no question that any one of these festivals are, likely at this very moment, salivating at the thought of booking one of the most prized and arguably most sorely missed bands of the past decade. I mean, let's not forget these were the same people that offered the Smiths a cool $5 million for a one off performance, so these guys love to stir the pot with promises of a reunion. That being said, I for one can definitely see Malkmus and friends being the toast of the 2010 summer festival scene, and i hope they do. Never got to see them when they were around, so I'd welcome the opportunity to watch these dudes in the the back of a deli,let alone at say Lollapalooza.
But part of me hopes they leave it there. Doubling back to a previous post I made about the dangers of reunions, I hope its a one and done thing: no prolonged touring, definitely no new reunion album. Just treat it like a test drive, once around the block and back to the dealer.
Anyway, definitely the best news I've heard in a while.

All points Westbound....

Oh, hey there. Wait, what's that? Where have I been? You missed me?

Didn't think so.

Anyway, with the shit storm that was a 100+ hour work week behind me, here's a little something to wet your beak. I had the good fortune a while back to talk with Obi Fernandez, he the vocalist/trombone player for local homeboys Westbound Train, for Boston's venerable indie rag "The Noise." Big ups to Obi for taking the time to talk and Matthew Thompson for his help setting up the interview. The new issue of the Noise hits stands in July.


Ska is dead.

We’ve all heard that one before, haven’t we? Now 12 or so years removed from the retrospectively horrific ska boom that made household names out of bands like Sublime (deservedly so) and Reel Big Fish (eh, not so much), the word “ska” has almost been reduced to parody, kind of like the Macarena.

But let’s not read the genre its last rights just yet. Sure, Beantown’s once rumbling ska scene has softened considerably in recent years. No more Bosstones or Bim Skala Bim, and those skank-tastic days of Big D and Kicked in the Head playing VFW Halls and backyard parties are long gone. But ska is alive and well. I’ve seen it myself.

On a cold, somewhat damp Saturday night in April, Westbound Train are having a coming out of sorts. Just days after the release of “Come and Get It,” their second disc for Hellcat Records, the band, singer/trombone player Obi Fernandez, trumpet player Rich Graiko, guitarist John DeCarlo, bassist Thad Merritt, drummer Eric Novod, keyboardist Gideon Blumethal and sax player Luke Penella, are getting set to stage the second of two back-to-back CD release shows. The buzz around night number one was the band sold out the Middle East’s small but typically sparse upstairs room, and upon arrival tonight they seem poised to repeat.

A few hours later I creep to the side of the stage to get a good look. The crowd, sufficiently pumped up by an opener I can’t remember, are ready to move. And it took mere notes into the band’s hour plus long set that I was sold. The music skittered and stomped with groovy nonchalance, the vocals soared soulfully and sights and sounds of 200 plus ska freaks singing and moving with the rhythm was proof enough to me that there was still life to be had in this thing called ska.

“Yeah, it was great,” said Fernandez, phoning in from his New Jersey home a week after the show. “We were really excited and ready to get back out and play behind the new record, and to sell out both nights was amazing.”

Fernandez and friends took the show on the road just a few days after the Middle East home stand, hitting joints in New York, Philadelphia, Cleveland and Chicago amongst others to further push the new release.

“At this point we sort of know our spots,” Fernandez said. “Chicago is a place we love to play, same with New York, Philadelphia, DC. The shows there are always a lot of fun. With this mini-tour we just wanted to come out to these cities that have shown us a lot of support.”

The band has come a ways since their Boston beginnings back in 2001. The band’s soul-infused brand of dub and trad ska found a warm embrace in a city that has long supported and stood up for the genre, self-releasing 2003’s “Searching For A Melody” and 2005’s “Five to Two” to considerable local fanfare. But when the Train caught the ear of Rancid’s Tim Armstrong, their profile got a considerable boost from area faves to the big leagues.

Through word of mouth from friends and early supporters, including soulful New York ska vets the Slackers, Armstrong brought the band into his Hellcat Records imprint, first through a contribution to the label’s long-running “Give’Em The Boot” series before releasing their third full length, 2006’s “Transitions.”

The album was Westbound’s most mature offering to date, suggesting the band may have found a home in Hellcat, a meat and bones offshoot of Epitaph Records home to street smart hardcore, punk, rockabilly and ska acts such as the Pietasters, the Aggrolites, Roger Miret, the Horrorpops and Boston’s own Dropkick Murphys among others.

“That was a fun record to make,” Fernandez said of “Transitions” and signing to Hellcat. “It’s one of those things you think about as a kid, being able to work with bands you grew up listening to. I remember having a tape with Rancid on one side of it and just feeling blown away. Now to make records with people who understand us and who we call friends, there’s nothing better. It’s a great relationship.”

Their Hellcat connections helped the band land the services of Slackers’ sax player Dave Hillyard, a revered figure in ska circles, in the production of “Come And Get It.”

Hillyard worked the boards as the record’s producer, helping bring the band’s sound to the next level.

“I guess you’d say it’s like having a coach,” Fernandez said of Hillyard’s influence on the new record. “He knows us and we know him, and he has a great way of getting the sound he needs out of you. His knowledge of music is unbelievable, just on another level.”

While the record still finds the band fully embracing the relaxed, rocksteady vibes it’s long held at its core, even a cursory listen to the disc reveals there are new elements at play in the Train formula. If album opener “I Don’t Belong Here” kicks the disc off in fine, if now established, Westbound form, “Come and Get It” it is peppered with pleasantly surprising deviations, namely “Ain’t Gonna Be Easy,” a track which channels the Motown and Stax labels as much as it does the band’s ska and reggae ancestry.

The reasons behind the stylistic shift forward are many. For starters, the band took themselves out of their environment to write and record the album, setting up shop in LA for their first album away from home. The album also marks drummer Novod and sax player Penella’s first contributions to the band on record, further pushing the band into the realm of jazz and soul. This combined with Hillyard’s expertise makes for a record that feels both familiar and new for listeners.

“It’s a good reflection of where we are as a band right now,” Fernandez said. “It really feels like everything that’s happened before now has been a build up to this. This is a record I think we’ve had in us a long time, but up until now we weren’t there. We’re all really proud of it.”

The band will make its first big push behind the record this summer, as they’ll head out on a six week run on this summer’s Vans Warped Tour beginning July 7 in Indianapolis. The trek includes a local stop at the Comcast Center on July 21.

“It’s a long tour, but a lot of fun,” Fernandez said looking back on the band’s shorter stints on previous Warped Tours. “Everyone talks about it like it’s a punk rock summer camp, and it really is. The bands are great and Kevin (Lyman, Warped Tour founder and organizer) does a great job putting it together every year. We’re excited to do it.”

Touring will no doubt consume a good chunk of the band’s 2009 and 2010 calendar years, and another disc is likely a few years ahead of them. For now, Fernandez and his fellow passengers on the Train are just enjoying the ride, following wherever the music takes them.

“This record put a lot of things in perspective for us I think. Making (“Come And Get It”) was so natural and we gave into that a lot. It was the first record where we didn’t overthink things and just played, and that gave us a lot of confidence to just open up our sound and let things happen. That’s something I think we’ve been working at for a long time.”

NOFXciting

Growing up means letting go and moving on.

I get that, and for the most part I can accept the fact that sometimes the things you once loved becomes, well, lame or uncool. Fire engines and tonka trucks rocked when I was a little kid, but needless to say I cant find much use for them at the ripe old age of 25. But it's cool. I've found a way to sleep at night without them.

But music, at least for me, has always been a little bit harder to let go of. For some reason it's difficult me to leave behind certain bands, even if conventional wisdom says i should. Here I am, a college graduate with a good job etc. etc. and I still have a fond preference for loud, fast and perpetually adolescent music I should have left to collect dust a long time ago. Sure I'm big into Wilco, Talking Heads and hosts of other bands I would have scoffed at mercilessly when I was in high school, but I'd be lying if i said I didn't still get a charge out the Descendents, Bad Religion, No Use For a Name and the bratty skate punk I grew up with as a kid.

But what about the bands you can't shake loose even if the torch you once carried for them continues to grow dimmer with each passing record? Do you stomach the bad out of reverence for all the good times you had listening a band when you were younger, or do you just cut bait? Does a band's former greatness make up for its latter day sins?

Maybe the appropriate response to this admittedly heady line of questioning is "Who cares," and I can't say I thought much about any of this at all until maybe two weeks ago. It was then that I picked up "Coaster," the new and regrettably meh record by NOFX. The record's flagrant mediocrity didn't exactly surprise me, especialy following an album that was far and away the worst of their long career. And yet I still bought, knowing that it would at least halfway suck, because I almost felt an obligation to follow through with one of my all time favorite bands.

A little backstory: In the mid 90s, a halcyon time when punk rock slowly began taken over every fiber of my being, there was NOFX, who alongside bands like Rancid, Green Day, Pennywise and Bad Religion were putting out the best punk music of my generation. In fact, everything NOFX did from 1990-2002 or so was borderline untouchable, from underground classics like "Punk In Drublic" and "White Trash, Two Heebs and a Bean" to the ironically titled "I Heard They suck Live." Hell, even "Heavy Petting Zoo," which with its slower tempos and overall grungier sound felt like a deliberate stab at alienating its own fan base, was still pretty good. For a while it really felt like the band could do no wrong.

And that was exactly what I was thinking when I bought "Coaster." It didn't matter that "Wolves In Wolves Clothing" was terrible, or that "War on Errorism," felt too preachy and lacked the punch of the band's earlier output. Everytime I hold a new NOFX record, I have fleeting hope that it will recapture the bite and smartass swagger of those 90s records.

To be fair, "Coaster" has flashes of the irreverant skate punk style the band rests its cult hero status on, but in the end that's all they were. Flashes. At 10 tracks and just over a half an hour, the album felt less like a record and more like an afterthought. If I didn't know any better, i would have even gone as far to say lazy.

Would have that is, until i read this exerpt from an interview frontman Fat Mike did with Bay Area Decider a few weeks back:

"We're lazier," he said. "We're not as hungry now. We kind of take it easy. Around 1994, we reached a high point in our music."

Had this been said 10 years ago, it probably would have been funny, but instead it now feels strangely true. The band's famously sloppy, couldn't give a fuck attitude has long been it's trademark, but rarely has that attitude translated so clearly on record. "Coaster" does sound like they pushed it through and tried to beat the clock. Part of me gets it. These guys have been around longer than I've been alive (literally), so maybe they are fatiguing. And if they want to take it easy maybe that's their right, even if it occasionally comes at expense to fans like me. It would be hard to argue they don't deserve it.

But I'll go down with the ship. The next time they want to mail it in with a less than stellar batch of tunes, I'll be right there ready to buy, hoping against hope that it's the second coming of "So Long And Thanks For All the Shoes." It's like a drug you just can't kick, but like Fatty says, "Drugs Are Good."

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

The debut offering from New York's buzzed to the stars indie outfit The Pains of Being Pure at Heart raises an interesting question: Is it fair to slight a band for their derivative tendencies if they're, well, good?

If the band's self titled Slumberland debut proves anything, it's that it knows how to pick its spots. The opening chords to "Contender," muddled in distortion yet invariably sweet in its own raucous way, immediately show the band's hand, conjuring instant comparisons to shoegazer staples Jesus and Mary Chain and My Bloody Valentine and C86 staples such as the Field Mice and the Wedding Present, among others. There's literally nothing on the record that doesn't work off of a well laid template, but the end result is thoughtfully produced set of 10 songs that leave a strong impression. In a digital age where music comes and goes so fast, that's success in and of itself.

Timing, perhaps more than anything, is the Pains' saving grace. With "indie rock" still going strong in mainstream circles almost five years after its initial break through the surface, there's a swelling market for the band's jangling noise pop, and the band is smart enough to take cues from the masters. And with My Bloody Valentine coming out of hiding for the first time in over 16 years, the Pains' sound, which out of context would barely register as little more than an audible clusterfuck, is put into sharp focus. If nothing else they keep good company.

So back to the songs. The band sticks suffocatingly close to the formula of shredding guitars and feedback, calling to mind a time when indie was indie, before it was a brand and was just earnest music bravely skirting the fringes of pop music. The Pains lay a goose egg in terms of ingenuity, but they successfully recreated the sounds of a timeless era of early indie rock, and that should prove good enough for most.

Lolla's shaping up (maybe?)

With still a few weeks to go before the 2009 Lollapalooza lineup is announced, seemingly every concievable name in the alt/indie-rock universe is being thrown around as a possible additon to this year's stable of acts. And with will over 100 bands slated again for this summer's shindig in Chicago's Grant Park, they're all fair game.

From a very reliable source, here are a smathering of names being tossed around for Lolla 2009:

Of Monteal

Andrew Bird

Theivery Corp

Decemberists

Bon Iver

Glasvegas

Ben Folds

Manchester Orchestra

Deerhunter

Animal Collective

TV on the Radio

Coheed & Cambria

No Age

Atmosphere

Kaiser Chiefs

Band of Horses

Silversun Pickups

Snoop Dogg

Cold War Kids

Passion Pit


Not bad. Plenty of band's Id watch casually with some interest, but no one I'd mark the days on my calendar to see. Atmosphere, No Age and Animal Collective are nice additions, and I'd be interested to see what tricks Snoop pulls out of his sleeve. Still the tentative lineup still needs a few power players, like the Stooges in 2007 or Pixies in 2005. We'll see.

Faces on Film

Hey y'all.

Here's an interview with Mike Fiore of Faces on Film that I wrote for the super awesome Boston fanzine The Noise (www.thenoise-boston.com). The April issue should pop up around the city in a few weeks, so keep an eye out. And thanks to Mike for taking the time to talk.





Good, sometimes great, things come in small doses.

Faces on Film is a good, often great, band that unfortunately does justice to such a claim. They don’t play out often, save for a semi regular residency at the Middle East and the infrequent trip to New York. They kept fans waiting way too long for their excellent new album, “The Troubles,” which finally arrived late last year almost three years after their debut EP. All and all they keep a low key, almost dodgy, profile.

This is a shame of course, as anyone who has ever seen the Faces can attest to. Having first seen them myself on a cold January night in 2007, I’ll be the first to say these guys can take over a room. As the headliners of a wildly uneven bill, one that ran the gamut from spirited post hardcore to synth-driven noise rock, the band closed out the restless evening with a heartfelt and spirited set of indie-folk songs that drew every eye in the room to the stage like a magnet. It was the calm after the storm, a lullaby easing a packed Middle East Upstairs room to an earnest quiet.

The buzz around the Faces has been slow but steady, but on the heels of a much anticipated self titled debut, its one that’s beginning to gather real momentum, as evidenced by a local following that gladly follows them from one gig to the next and glowing raves from the likes the Boston Globe, which trumpeted “Troubles” as one its favorite records of 2008. So what the fuck gives? Why then, with everything that’s seemingly going for them, aren’t we hearing more about Faces on Film?
The answer, in short, is because Mike Fiore isn’t thinking much about it.

In fact, as we sit and talk over beers in a dim lit, tucked away corner of the Independent in Somerville, Fiore, the songwriter and musical engine driving the Faces on Film moniker, contemplates how much he has left to give the project.

“I know this won’t go on forever,” he said matter of factly. “I’m not even sure if it will go on that much longer. I don’t think anyone involved has any real expectation of making money or getting attention outside of here.”

That’s not to say he’s ready to walk away from music. Anything but. Statements as such are just a byproduct of Fiore’s restless musical vision. Having just released one of last year’s finest records to emerge from the Boston underground, he’s not sitting on his accomplishments. Instead he’s contemplating his next move, maybe as Faces on Film, maybe with friends in kindred musical spirits such as Hallelujah the Hills and Mister Sister or still maybe just going out on his own. The next chapter in Fiore’s musical career always seems a page or two away from being closed.

“Right now this is Dave (Hinkley, Faces on Film guitarist/bassist) and I’s thing,” he said. “It’s working now, but there’s not any time frame or anything concrete about it. It sounds sort of haphazard, but I think it suits the music and the people involved in it.”

Fiore’s musical muse has always been fleeting. He formed the Faces’ first incarnation upon arriving in Boston from Rochester in 2004, quickly joining forces with frequent collaborator Ted Gallagher and then-drummer Peter Schaefer to lay down some tracks. Those songs eventually manifested themselves in 2005’s “Seven Sisters” EP, but it didn’t take long before Fiore began distancing himself from the record.

“I came here basically with the intention of starting a band with (Ted) and some people we knew,” Fiore said. “I’d been playing with him for a while, but then things started changing. I just had a different idea of what the band was and what I wanted it to be.

“It was really just a demo,” Fiore said of “Seven Sisters,” a much more streamlined affair that predated the atmospheric sounds showcased on the band’s debut full length. “We never really thought of it as a proper release. It was more something to hold us over in the meantime. By the time it went to press I was really unhappy with it. I really wanted to put things into a different direction.”

It was time to rebuild things from the bottom up. Enter Hinckley and Elio Deluca, who helped Fiore steer the band into uncharted new territory. The band recorded the record at the Soul Shop in Medford, with Fiore tackling vocals, guitar and drums, Hinckley on guitar and bass and Deluca taking on organ and piano duties. The album also features vocal contributions from Nicole Frattaroli on the track “Natalie’s Numbers.”

Fiore drew the lineup of the new look Faces from a collective of like minded local musicians who, along with Fiore, pop in and out of each others projects.

“It’s a setup that I love,” Fiore said. “There’s a collective of four or five bands, about 10 or 11 of us total, and we jump in and out of each other’s projects. We’re all sort of related.”

With “The Troubles,” Fiore carried little over from his previous effort but the name. The album sharply reinvented the band’s DNA, boasting rustic and ramshackle songs that are sweet yet cryptic, simple upon first listen yet complex in arrangement. They’re songs that can shoulder a heavy burden or just as easily leave listeners feeling light as a feather. It’s a blissful study of contrast that serves as the band’s central nerve. It’s music that evokes feeling, mood music that can just as easily pick you up as it can break your heart.

But while the new record marks a sharp break from “Seven Sisters,” the band’s new sound didn’t arise by design. Instead, Fiore insists the shift in direction was natural. The songs, he said, began to take shape over the course of lengthy rehearsals and rewrites.

“I can see how it would appear that way,” Fiore said of the new record’s shift in sound. “But it was never a conscious thing. We never felt that one song had to sound like this or another had to disassociate itself from all the others.

“It wasn’t one of those records where we went in knowing where it was going,” he added. “I don’t know what exactly informed the songs or the arrangements. But having played them for so long, at least the ones that stuck around and made it on the record, we didn’t have to sit around and think about it for very long.”

The growth reflected on “The Troubles” is also indicative of Fiore’s maturation as a songwriter. Themes of family, hopelessness and desperation crept their way into his songwriting, while sonically the singer wrestled to develop his own sound on record.

“I’m finding out what qualities I like in songs and live music, and out of those things what I’m capable of and what I’m not,” he said, citing Tom Waits, the Band and the Impressions as some of the record’s primary influences. “There were a lot of things I had to learn about working within my own limitations.”

Fiore is a searcher, constantly looking one step ahead at his next project and what’s coming up around the corner. But while his career has taken twists and turn down unexpected avenues, what he’s really looking for is something surprisingly straightforward and simple.

“It seems we always revert back to the path of least resistance,” he said. “We go after the things that bring us the most joy and make for the best music. That’s all we’re trying to do.”

Lollapalooza gets into Beastie-Mode

Jane's Addiction, Beastie Boys and Depeche Mode have been confirmed as headliners for this year's Lollapalooza festival in Chicago's Grant Park. It's a promising start for sure, but I'm still holding my breath until the full lineup is unveiled in April. Lolla lineups have a reputation for being top heavy, but I'd like to see organizers do a better job of filling out the middle of the festival rather than putting all their muscle behind the headliners. I came out to last summer's festival only wanting to see maybe four bands, one of which canceled. Perry Farrell needs to saddle up and ride this year.

My Top 15 Albums

Facebook (i.e. the archnemisis of productivity) has been on a big list kick as of late. I even got suckered into doing one of those bullshit "25 things about me" things, but was pretty intent on leaving it at that. But then i saw one that was right up my alley: Top 15 Albums. I couldn't resist.

Oddly enough, I've never done one of these lists as they pertain to music, save for one hastily thrown together year end Top 10 list for the Marquette Tribune in 2004. But this, a sort of autobiographical list of the 15 albums that shaped my world, required a little more thought. Anyway, here's my list, which I decided to tuck away here instead of whoring it out on Facebook. It'd hardly definitive, but its pretty close. Also, pay no mind to the sequence outside of the top three. This shit is way to hard to organize.

Nirvana-Nevermind
-A safe one for sure, but if I'm being honest this absolutely belongs on this list, and it can't fall anywhere short of number one. As a product of the early '90s grunge/punk/alternative era, there was just no other starting point than Nevermind. The album baosted five singles, all more than mere hits but rather anthems for a generation. Simply put, Nirvana was my first musical crush. In fact, I pinpoint my first vivid musical memory to watching Krist Novacellic throwing his bass up in the air and getting clonked on the head with it during the band's performance of "Lithium" at the 1992 Video Music Awards. From there it was pretty much the snowball effect.

Rancid-Let's Go!/...And Out Come the Wolves
-Tied for second, the two best albums by my all time favorite band. While i don't listen to Rancid as much as I did during middle school and high school, the band earns my favorite band nod because since I first bought "Let's Go!" in October 1995, there hasn't been another band whose music has meant more to me. "Let's Go," with 23 tracks clocking in at just over a half an hour, feels like the musical equivalent to taking a joy ride in a stolen car. It's frantic, sharply produced, high voltage punk rock, even if the songs blend together a little too well at points.
But if "Let's Go!" was a hellraising introduction to the band, "...And Out Come the Woves," Rancid's third album released just a year later, was goddamn epic and the band's finest offering to date. The album branched out into ska and two-tone without sacrificing its '77-style punk grit, making for the best album of the mid '90s punk revival era. The only thing better than listening to the records is seeing the band live, which i've been lucky enough to do five times now. Simply classic.

NOFX-Punk In Drublic
-In high school, my musical tastes were about as rigid as they got. I was hopelessly dedicated to punk and melodic hardcore bands as touted and branded by such tastemaking labels as Epitaph and Fat. In fact, apart from choice local bands, that was more or less all I listened. Warped tour was like a second Christmas for me.
Anywhooo atop that elite list of bands was NOFX, the perpetually adolescent kings of bratty, snot nosed SoCal skate punk some 18 or 19 years running. My tastes have expanded considerably since I was 14 or 15, so the band's brazen decadence doesn't resonate with me nearly as much as it used to. That, coupled with the fact that the band's last record totally blew, and wre taking about a pretty steep drop in fandom. But I still love them because their music still has an unbreakable stranglehold on a very paticular era of my personal musical journey. "Punk in Drublic" is the band's best record, with "So Long and Thanks For All the Shoes" coming in at a close second.

Tom Waits-Rain Dogs
I'll admit, Tom Waits' music isn't exactly inviting, so I don't feel too bad about how long it took me before finally giving in. Toward the middle of my college years, maybe early junior year, I picked up "Rain Dogs" at a bargain price, but it didn't hit me right away. In fact, a few years went by before the album's sheer greatness finally hit me over the head. From there came others: "Frank's Wild Years," "Mule Variations," "Bone Machine" and "Orphans" among others. Still, none are anywhere near as freakishly awesome as "Rain Dogs," a record that pushed me more than any other toward embracing more adventurous sounding music.

Elvis Costello and the Attractions-This Year's Model
Like I mentioned earlier, any music I gave even half a chance in high school had to have at least a fleeting connection to punk, and it took sufficient name dropping from bands like Goldfinger, Green Day and MXPX among others to encourage me to give Elvis Costello a fighting chance. When I did buy "My Aim is True," I liked it enough, but didn't quite get the connection. But when I heard "This Year's Model," it all clicked. Elvis and the Attractions were infinitely more pop oriented, but as the poster child of outsider angst, it was easy to see where so many punk bands got their sneering cues. Another critical album that showed me there were signs of musical life outside of Southern California.


Goldfinger-S/T
We've all heard of the expression "comfort food," any home cooked meal that reminds you of home and of growing up. It's weird, but certain things carry that sentimental weight. I have "comfort music," songs and records that instantly remind me of my 13 year old self blaring music while doing shitty algebra problems. We've touched upon a couple already on this list, and Goldfinger's 1996 self titled debut is easily another. What I love about it is how simple yet effective it is. It's not at all groundbreaking, and it doesn't lend itself to endless discussion and analysis the way "Blonde on Blonde" or "Sgt. Peppers" does. But damn if that wasn't one of the best fucking records I'd heard in my life up to that point. Great production, tight, punchy power punk with splashes of ska, and one of the best singles of the 90s in "Here in Your Bedroom. Good shit.


Big D and the Kids Table-Shot By Lammi
My discovering Big D and the Kids Table (along with a shit ton of other Boston-area bands circa 1997-1998) was the equivalant of the Big Bang Theory. It was a significant turning point where my musical tastes started veering sharply away from MTV and radio toward "underground" music. My friends and I used to live for going to shows at the Middle East, VFW halls, churches and the host of other random ass places promoters hosted shows back in the day, and we followed bands like the Bruisers, Ducky Boys, Dropkick Murphys, Kicked in the Head and Big D with almost reckless abandon. Can't say I listen to them nearly as much anymore, but I did meat Dave McWane for an interview with the Noise sometime back and was pleased to find he was a very cool and lid back guy.


Pavement-Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain
Basically the album that threw me into indie rock (along with the next entry). Pavement exemplified what it meant to be a cult band, and the combination of the band's lo-fi sound and Stephen Malkmus' obtuse lyricism goaded listeners into sharply divided love it or leave it camps. I'm in the love it category.


Pixies-Doolittle
Big ups to my old buddy Jeff for tuning me into the Pixies. It was on those early morning drives into high school that I stumbled upon Doolittle, and I was hooked from the first note. "Debaser" is still one of the coolest oddities in rock music, "Here Comes Your Man" is one of the best pop songs of the 90s and just about every other track on the disc beats the bag out of these wannabe hipster douchebags posing as indie rock nowadays.


Fugazi-Repeater
I came across Fugazi through Minor Threat, you know, that other unspeakably amazing band Ian MacKaye was in? MacKaye's music has always always been unwaivering and cocksure in its principles, but by the time he joined forces with Guy Picciotto, Brandon Canty and Joe Lally in Fugazi, the politics and music became so intertwined there was no discerning one from the other. They were a true band of the people, and no single album in the band's stellar repertoire championed that sentiment better than Repeater. From the opening echo of "Turnover" through such classics as "Merchandise" and "Greed," the band set a brazen and still unmatched standard for the DIY work ethic. They completely built up their own business model and made it work, touring economically, putting on $5 shows for their fans and stirring up some of the most staggeringly sincere and honest music the underground has ever seen. More than a band, they're a glaring example of how to live life on your own terms.


Dropkick Murphys-Do Or Die
"Do Or Die," the Murphys' proper debut and their first for Epitaph Records offshoot Hellcat, was less of an album and more of a rallying cry, and me and my buddies heeded the call upon its 1998 release. Nowadays the Dropkicks just aren't as sharp as they used to be. The songs aren't as strong, their street core edges have dulled some and they feel like a parody of their former selves. But looking at how borderline mediocre they've become has come to show just how great their early records were by contrast. The band who did "Do or Die" was an almost entirely different incarnation of the band we see now, a four piece instead of (how many guys are in the band now?). This was the band at their best: A balls to the wall, blue collar punk band from the hood with sinewy slabs of their Irish heritage smeared throughout the music. if you're going to listen to one DKM disc, this is it by a mile, showcasing the local legends at their peak. Listening to it just makes you proud to be from Boston.

Wilco-Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
I admittedly was late to the game when it came to Wilco. I knew of them for a while, but it wasn't until the summer of 2005 that I threw down for "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot." Crazy yet subtle, adventurous and other times calm, it's a record that pulls at you from a lot of different angles. And yet as a whole its a really cohesive listen. It wasn't long before I picked up the band's entire catalog, including the Mermaid Ave discs with Billy Bragg. Each one represents a band with a different identity, and I became a full on fan on the strength of their versatility alone. And they've got a new record coming out in June. Psyched.


Operation Ivy-S/T
I'm tired of writing at this point, so forgive me for phoning it in a bit. But this is still one of the best albums I own. I challenge you to find a more consistently enjoyable listen.

Pennywise-S/T
Pennywise, and this album, go in that aforementioned "comfort music" category. When I put together my first band with my buddies Seamus and Mike in 8th grade (Vehicular Homicide for life!). "Bro Hymn" was the first song we learned to play together. Those sort of memories are destined to keep a band close to your heart.

Singin' to a degree that you can't get in college

It's hard to believe it's been 20 years since the Beastie Boys unloaded their now landmark album "Paul's Boutique." Mike D, Ad Rock and MCA marked the occasion today by rereleasing the seminal 1989 disc on CD and vinyl. If you don't have it, get it. Now. Go.

Get it (back) together

The Onion AV Club recently polled its writers about the bands they'd give their right nut to see reunite after an extended breakup or hiatus. Like just about everything the AV Club does, it's a entertaining and insightful read. You can check it out at www.avclub.com.



To be honest, I tend to look on at reunions with my bullshit detector on full blast. Something about them doesn't sit well with me, and for a few reasons. Growing up, it seemed like the only bands reuniting were the ones that I personally didn't give a damn about anyway. When Garth Brooks hung up his guitar and laughably oversized cowboy hat for the first time some 13 or 14 years ago, I can't say I really cared much. I did, however, when he came out of retirement what feels like a dozen times. Ditto for Kiss, who at last count has had something like five reunion tours. Where's the excitement or spectacle in a band that breaks up and gets back together every other week?



Another bone I frequently pick with reunions is how most of them are doomed to fail to begin with. Everytime Van Halen is said to reuinite it spins people into a frenzy, but it's always a matter of time before they implode again, serving only to remind us why the band broke up to begin with. Rather than bringing anything new or refreshing to the table, these reunions too often reopen and pour salt into old wounds. And don't get me started about reunion albums, which are almost guaranteed to tank and tarnish a once great band's legacy even further. Simply put, if a band breaks up it's likely for good reason, and reunions should be approached with the same caution a five year old would a fence with a "Beware of Dog" sign. Enter at your own risk.



Those are my blanket criticisms and gripes with reunions in general, but I have to say there have been a few bands over the past few years who have managed to at least halfway restore my faith in the sanctity of reunion tours. When the Pixies got back together some 11 years after their initial split in 2004, I immediately disregarded all my reservations to catch them in Milwaukee my senior year of college. I was only starting to get into music at about the time the band broke up in 1993, so I was forced to catch up with them in high school. When I finally caught them on stage, I'm pleased to say they exceeded my already high expectations in leaps and bounds. They played everything I wanted to hear, "Debaser," Levitate Me," "Dig For Fire," you name it was there. They aged noticeably, and Frank Black looked disturbingly like Uncle Fester, but apart from that the show served as a model example of how to successfully do a reunion tour.



Seeing Dinosaur Jr. onstage again was another pleasant surprise, not only because of how good they sounded, but also given the particularly volatile nature of their original split. The cliff notes go something like this: J. Mascis was a control freak and a dick, and bassist Lou Barlow was often times the target of Mascis' hostility. The power struggle continued until Mascis dropped Barlow by the wayside, telling him the band broke up before continuing on without him with drummer Murph and a rotation of stand in players.



So when the original lineup announced its reformation sometime in 2005, I met the idea with equal doses excitement and skepticism. But then the reviews came in. They were great at Lollapalooza in 2005, seemed to let bygones be bygones and put out a reunion album (gulp) that rivaled its best work on SST in both intensity and quality. I was sold.

I first caught the newly reunited Dinosaur Jr. at the Paradise in November 2007. With PAs and speakers stacked what seemed like a mile high, the band tour through songs new and old, making for an hour or so of the most ear bleeding, mind numbing music I've ever heard. I was literally dizzy leaving the show.



The Pixies and Dino reunions were two huge steps toward softening my icy feelings toward reunions, enough so to make me ponder the AV Club's list a little further. What bands would I walk the Earth to see reform, even for a one off show?



Rocket From the Crypt

-It's only been e few years since San Diego's favorite son bid farewell on Halloween 2005, but a Rocket reunion couldn't come soon enough. Other Jon Reis projects such as the Sultans and Night Marchers have filled the void ok, and there's always Drive Like Jehu to crawl back to, but rewatching that youtube clip of Craig Kilborn proclaiming RFTC as the best live band in the solar system (moments before the band backed up the claim live on the Late Late Show in 2002) makes me hunger for teh real thing. For now, the closest I've come is seeing local boys the Appreciation Post do an all covers set of RFTC favs. It'll have to do.



The Clash

-They're the only band that matters, a bold claim but one the band lived up to ten fold. Still, there's no Clash without the late Joe Strummer, so this one seems dead in the water. We can dream, though, can't we?



Black Flag

-I probably wouldn't make it out alive, but I'd pull some serious strings to catch the Flag, "Damaged" era circa 1981-1982. That youtube clip of a crazed Henry Rollins beating the shit out of a fan in the front row with his microphone is still one of my favorite videos of all time.



Husker Du

-Kyle Ryan of the AV Club actually had the Huskers on his list, so I'll defer to him. But at this point it seems there's a better chance of smallpox resurfacing than these guys, as Bob Mould and Grant Hart continue to talk shit about each other in the press now 20 years after their breakup. Mould told me himself in an interview in 2004 that it would NEVER happen, but crazier things have happened.



Operation Ivy

-Most people would be lucky to land one great band, but Tim Armstrong has two to his credit in Rancid and Op Ivy. But as beloved as Op Ivy is there has scarecley been a mention or hint of a reunion since their breakup in 1987. There's no bad blood or ill will between the members (Armstrong and Matt Freeman still play together in Rancid), so it doesn't seem out of the question. And with Rancid having laid low for the past three or for years, it would have been nice to see an Ivy reunion of some sort to kill the down time.



The Kinks

-Enough said, but again, very unlikely. Hopefully Ray Davies comes around town soon because that's about as close as I'll get.

Long live the King

Don't click the below link unless you're wearing a diaper. Seriously. Dave King of the Bad Plus rippin it live behind  the kit.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5vuYj2vjRY

Lux Interior RIP

                                                                                                                                                                                 

A quick note before I start rambling....

With the new gig I don't write nearly as much as I used to or would like to, so I'm going to try and make a post a day throughout the month of February to help restore my writerly balance.

I was saddened this morning to hear that Lux Interior, the iconic frontman for punkabilly pioneers the Cramps, has died at the age of 62. Reports say he suffered from a preexisting heart condition.

The first time I crossed paths with the Cramps came by way of Green Day, of all bands. My dad took my brother and I and our mutual friend Mike to a Green Day show at the then-Worcester Centrum in 1995, where the Cramps were booked as the opener. Despite their legendary status within the underground circuit, the band cut through a forty or so minute set to an indifferent audience who were clearly there to see the main event. Punk heroes as they were, most people spent their set with their arms crossed counting the minutes until Green Day took stage.

Admittedly I was in the same boat. I was still a novice to all things punk and underground, but I was intrigued by their camp take on the genre, almost like a punk rock "Rocky Horror Picture Show."

"Who are these guys," my dad asked.

"Don't know," I shrugged.

Just then a guy behind us leaned over and said "The Cramps. These guys are Led Zepplin compared to what you're gonna see tonight."

It wasn't until years later that I realized he was right. When I was a freshman in high school the Amazing (Royal) Crowns hit the Boston scene with a bullet, and I was hit, giving me my first honest introduction to rockabilly's bastard child punkabilly. From there I found other bands such as Reverend Horton Heat, the Horrorpops and eventually the Cramps. I never saw the band again after that Green Day show all those years ago, and days like today make me wish I was old enough to appreciate having seen them when I did.

Cheers Lex.

The influence of Sunny Day Real Estate (and how so many bands got it wrong)

  Sometimes rediscovering  a band or song is even better than the first fling.

It's not at all uncommon to tire of a song, band, movie, etc. after a period of extensive indulgence. Odds are that if you go at something too strong too quick that passion or connection you feel to it will ultimately die down. When my much overplayed copy of the Dwarves' "Sugarfix" CD finally kicked the bucket last month after 11 years and countless plays, I can't say I really miss it all that much, seeing as how I can pretty much play those songs vividly in my head at this point. The bottom line is overexposure kills everything.

But then there are those times where bands get a second wind after a period of decompression. Last night I made a stop at Newbury Comics to pick up the new Bad Plus record (which is regrettably unremarkable, by the way. Get "These are the Vistas" or "Give.") when something caught my eye while browsing. "Diary," the debut album from Seattle's prototypical emo band Sunny Day Real Estate, was on sale for seven bucks, so I grabbed it on a whim.

"Diary" is one of the many, MANY CDs I lost in college, but really I hadn't given it much of a thought until I saw it on sale. But within minutes of throwing the disc in my changer on the way back to my apartment, I quickly remembered exactly what it was that drew me to these dudes to begin with. The soft/loud dynamics and overall musical dexterity spoke of a band too angsty and tough to be weepy, but too honest and introspective to teeter into brute punk/hardcore territory. They were both whimpy art rockers and a muscular DC-style postpunk band, often times in equal strokes, and yet they made such polarizing styles coalesce into a sound that has proved to be massively influential. In fact, it looms larger now than perhaps ever.

That sound would best be categorized as "emo," a term that has had the living shit kicked out of it in recent years with its ill-fated association with bands like My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy and As I Lay Dying and (insert Victory Records/Vagrant Records artist here). When people think of emo today all they see is eyeliner and self loathing, which is sad because, like any other genre of music, it too came from a time and place that was a lot more humble and genuine.

Many credit the origins of emo back to DC. In 1983 (I think), the DC hardcore scene gave rise to Rites of Spring, an explosive four-piece featuring future Fugazi members Guy Picciotto and Brendan Canty. DC, especially during the early 80's, was nothing short of a punk rock breeding ground, but even among such an elite scene ROS were pretty remarkable. Hardcore, in spite of its dogged defiance of all things conventional and mainstream, was in itself pretty narrow minded and set in its ways. It was hard and fast, often times putting sheer attitude over aptitude, and if you weren't in line you could see your way the fuck out the door. Then came ROS, who with blinding energy and sincere songs marked by themes of fragmented relationships, pointed introspection, self doubt and alienation changed the rules of the game. They were loud but melodic, and while lyrically they ran deep into uncharted hardcore territory, it was their passion and energy that united them with the DC scene.

 

From there came others in their path: Grey Matter, Nation of Ulysses, Fugazi, Texas is the Reason, No Knife, Jawbox, etc. Sunny Day also owed a debt to their fore-bearers, but they were one of the first to truly give the emo brand some traction in the mainstream. As much a matter of good timing as anything else, "Diary" dropped on the ever popular Sub Pop label in 1994, smack in the midst of the alternative/neo-punk revival that saw many of the band's peers jumping ship for the majors (Sunny Day members William Goldsmith and Nate Mendel were both members of the Foo Fighters' original incarnation, with Mendel still a member). Yet crossover success eluded the band, and they broke up a few short years later.

Fast forward almost 15 years and many bands talk about Sunny Day Real Estate the way others talk about Husker Du, the Replacements and the Smiths. They did something ahead of the curve, and years later a generation of younger bands are giving them the nod for it. But it seems that so many "emo" bands have totally missed the boat. It's a genre that's been fed to the corporate sharks and watered down accordingly. Give and band a sad disposition, a 12 year old girl's haircut and a guitar and just brand the word "EMO" across their back. 

It's a joke now, which is fine. Maybe there's little the genre can do to save face, but fortunately we'll always have albums like "Diary" to remind us it used to be music that mattered.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=l2JSW7fcQlk

Surprise! Rolling Stone hates Bush!

And I'm back by popular demand (thanks Phil). I've been busy/lazy, but it's time to get back on the wagon.

So anyway it took the story below to goad me back into pulling my itchy blog trigger finger once again. It's an excerpt from the latest Rolling Stone cover story, a mock interview with President Bush written by Matt Taibbi laying out everything the magazine's editors (and likely most of its readers) would like to hear from Dubya's mouth before he makes his exodus from the White House on the 20th. Check it out below:

http://www.rollingstone.com/news/coverstory/25329027

A few things for the sake of transparency before I get rolling: Politically I'd call myself centered with a lean toward the left, and I'm a pretty regular reader of Rolling Stone. Although the integrity with which they once used to cover music and the world at large has become pretty soft and lazy, there's always a few things worth reading in each issue, namely Taibbi, an equal opportunity offender who's about as close to an honest national affairs reporter your bound to find in today's day and age of blubbering pundits and tools trying to pass themselves off as honest journalists.

But with that having been said, the Bush interview, at least what little I've read of it, is a tragic misstep, even for a magazine that nakedly sold itself up liberal river a LONG time ago. Rolling Stone and publisher Jann Wenner has made little secret about their stance on Bush and the new guy (see all three RS Obama covers and the endless, though oft justified, assault on the Bush Administration over the past five or six years). And although they've put balance aside in favor of bashing Bush and trumping their boy Barack, this story abandons any sort of journalistic standards and pretense, all for the sake of giving Georgey Boy one more good kick in the ass on his way out the door. It's pretty rank and indecent.

As for Taibbi, I really like the guy. I think he's a really well informed and fearless reporter with a gift of clearly exposing the stupidity that runs amok on Capitol Hill. I encourage everyone reading this to check out his book Spanking the Donkey, which hangs the presidential campaign process out to dry as the traveling circus it is.

But while Taibbi's reputation as a renegade reporter is arguably the strongest weapon in his arsenal, it can really come back to hurt him at times. When he really digs his claws into someone, he runs the risk of coming off more of a bully than an investigative reporter, treating his stories and their subjects more as a grand stage of twisted theater than a platform for honest discussion and debate, which it should be. The "Bush Interview" is one such glaring instance.

From his child like send up fo Bush thrusting his Wii control in anger to more off topic and brazenly stupid anecdotes such as Condi Rice farting in the Oval Office, you're just left to wonder why bother? Bush is an easy target (way too easy), and Rolling stone has thrown more than its fair share of darts. But this story is little more than the magazine's last chance to kick an already disgraced man while he's down. Here Wenner and Taibbi show how much they have become something they've for so long openly rejected and despised, a one sided, biased liberal monster every bit as nasty and infuriating as the Ann Coulters and Sean Hannitys of the conservative world.

But the worst part of all of this is the timing. Of course we all should have expected Rolling Stone would try to get a few more shots in at Bush before he's gone for good, but by now everyone is over it. Bush fucked up, bad. We all get it and no one can run from it. But we're ready to move past it. Obama, hopefully, has some much needed tricks up his sleeve to get us out the ditch we find ourselves in, and that's where we all need to be. We need to hope for a better future in front of us, not dwell on the mistakes of the past. It almost makes you wonder what the magazine will do without Bush? Hopefully it can move on with the rest of us.

For now, Rolling Stone should stick to what it knows. Speaking of which, aren't Katy Perry or the Jonas Brothers ready for their close ups?